Change Gonna Come
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: Change is about to sweep the Taylor household, and Coach Eric Taylor is struggling to keep his girls happy while still pursuing his goal to become QB coach of the Dillon Panthers. A pre-season 1 FNL fanfic featuring Eric, Tami, Julie, and the Streets. This is a combined, edited re-posting of an older two-part story.
1. Job Hunt

**Author's Note (9/14/2012):** SurlyCoach posted the first part of this story some time ago, and I posted the second half (although we wrote both halves together). Now she's asked me to combine them as one edited, slightly condensed final product for the archives under my name. So if you missed this story the first time around, please read and review! (Feel free to read and review even if you didn't miss it the first time around, of course.) The original parts have been deleted. This follows a different invented backstory than SurlyCoach's last story, so put that one out of your mind!

**Chapter 1: Job Hunt**

When Julie asked for help with a math problem, Tami raised a finger in her direction and circled a job in the help wanted section: _Women's Center Counselor. B.A. in Psychology, Counseling, or related field required. M.A. Preferred._ Maybe they'd take her without the master's. She put down her pen and came around the dining room table to lean over Julie's shoulder. "Jules, honey, that looks like algebra."

Julie sighed. "Because it _is_ algebra, mom."

"But you _just_ started seventh grade." Today, to be exact.

"Yeah, and I'm on the advanced math track, remember? Like you wanted me to be."

Tami pulled up a chair next to her. "But I didn't take algebra until 10th grade."

"That's because you were on the dummy track," came Eric's voice from behind her. His hands came down on her shoulders. He squeezed them and lowered his head to kiss her, but she wasn't very receptive, given his comment. "_I_ took algebra in 9th grade." He smirked.

"What are you doing home so early?" Tami asked her husband.

"Practice finished up early. That Jason Street is something else. When that kid makes it to the NFL, and word gets around _I_ was his coach…" He nodded his head as he rubbed Tami's shoulders. "That's gonna be good for me." Tami craned her neck back to look at him as he continued to muse aloud, "The Streets are moving back to Dillon. Probably at the end of this school year. I'll see if I can get on as a QB coach over there. "

Julie threw her pencil with force on her math book. "Great! So we'll have to move _again_? Three schools in three years! Yay, me!"

"Hey, calm down." Eric took his hands off of Tami's shoulders. "There's no guarantee I'll get a job there. And if I do, we wouldn't move until June, and we wouldn't be moving that far. We'd be going back to Dillon." Julie had spent most of her elementary school years in Dillon, though they'd moved to Lamesa before she was quite done, and then again to Midland. "We'd still be in Texas."

"That's no consolation, Dad. The only thing that would make moving worthwhile is if we finally got _out _of Texas."

Eric took of his burnt orange Tigers cap and smacked Julie lightly with it. She grabbed it from his hand and smacked him back. He raised a warning eyebrow but smiled. He ripped the cap back out of her hand and put it on her head. Julie smiled too. She seemed temporarily appeased, but her mother let out a sigh.

"What?" Eric asked her.

"I was just about to apply for a job here. Women's Center Counselor. I don't know why I bother to check the want ads. We never stay in one town long enough. But it's time for me to get back to work, hon."

He headed toward the kitchen for a beer, his voice dying away as he went: "I thought we agreed you were gonna wait 'til Jules was in high school."

Tami followed him into the kitchen. "I knowyou like having me at home, that it makes your job less stressful."

"It's not just that." He popped off his bottle cap. "Julie's home all summer."

"You're home in the summer."

"Until training starts! And I have meetings. And conferences. And the personal coaching doesn't wait for August. That keeps going all summer. "

"She's old enough to be home – "

Eric set his bottle down on the counter. "You want our Julie to be a latchkey kid in 7th grade? Our daughter, whose just now starting to get _really_ interested in boys? You want her home alone?"

Tami put a hand on her hip. "Eric, I quit my job three weeks before she was born. I haven't worked full-time in over twelve years. If I'm ever going to pursue _my_ goals, I have to start sometime. I don't want to be going back to work when I'm 50."

"But you said you liked staying home with Julie. You said – "

"I did! I made that decision because it was the best decision for us _at the time_. But now I want to do something for _me_. Even if it isn't convenient for _you_."

He grabbed his bottle up again and shook his head. "We can get by on what I make. I have three jobs – coaching, teaching, and the personal training." He took a long swig.

"It's not about the money. But a real second income would be nice. We could get a house with more space. Maybe I could finally have a closet that would actually fit all my clothes."

"Or you could just exhibit a more Christian attitude and give some of your clothes to charity," he suggested. "How many shoes do you need anyway?"

"I _exhibit_ a Christian attitude, Eric. I volunteer at the women's shelter once a week. And I need precisely as many shoes as I have!" Her hair was shaking like the stands themselves were angry when she walked out of the kitchen.

"I'm glad you're home, sweetheart," he called after her. "How was your day? Thanks for working so hard to support your family."

She popped her head back into the kitchen. "That's what you want to hear? You know what I want to hear? 'Thanks for dedicating twelve years of your life to caring for me and our daughter. That was a selfless commitment, and now you deserve to pursue your own career goals. I support you. I'm behind you one hundred percent.' That's what _I'd_ like to hear." Her head disappeared, followed by the sound of clomping feet.

**/FNL/**

Tami was sitting up in bed. Waiting. Like a female praying mantis poised to bite the head off its mate. She heard Eric turn off the water in the hall bath. They hadn't been able to afford a house with a master bath in Midland. They'd been renting out their old house in Dillon, thinking they might be back one day, but the rent didn't quite cover the mortgage.

When he walked in, Eric was running his tongue under his teeth to wipe off the last spot of toothpaste.

"I want to go back to work," she said. "Not in two years when Julie's in high school. Not next year. Now."

He crawled under the covers. "Who's gonna cook my dinner and have it waiting for me on the table when I walk through the door?"

"The dog."

"Speaking of that," he complained, "who's gonna walk the dog in the afternoon if you're at work?"

"The dog can hold it until I get home. And you'll eat. Just not right when you get home. "

"But I'm hungry when I walk through the door after practice," he grumbled. "I'm a working man. I work up an appetite."

"I don't know how I ended up married to you. How did I end up married to such a chauvinist? I'm a strong, intelligent, independent woman!"

He rolled towards her. "Because I was the only man strong enough for you, baby. You needed someone as strong and stubborn as you are, or you'd have gotten bored. "

"I don't know about that."

"That and because I make you feel like a woman." He smiled. "You need a man who makes you feel like a woman."

She laughed. Then she made herself scowl.

"Listen, babe." His eyes weren't that annoyed-but-joking hard twinkle anymore. They had softened, the way they did when he was about to say something sincere. "I appreciate everything you've done for me – for this family - for the past twelve years." Oh, damn, here he went. She was going to have to work to stay angry. "You've made it possible for me to pursue my career," he continued. "You've brought my life peace. You've been there to give Julie the values and the roots she needs. You've worked hard and selflessly to make sure this family is taken care of, and I appreciate that, Tami."

_Stay angry. You can do it, Tami. Stay angry._ "You could have fooled me!" She didn't sound as angry as she wanted to. "Because you've never said that after _all_ that work, I deserve to pursue my career goals."

"I value you and all the work you've done at home. That's a gift you've given me and Julie. Don't think I don't know that. "

Those _eyes_. Those tender, expressive eyes. When he turned them on her like he was doing now, when he looked straight into her own eyes, no wavering…it was hard. It was _really_ hard to stay angry.

"It's only because I value that gift that I'm not all gung ho about you going back to work," he continued. "How would you like it if I were to just say, 'Fine, go back to work – it's not like you've been doing anything important around here anyway. I could care less about what you've been doing the past twelve years. I haven't even noticed it. I could have done it all on my own. ' But I can't say that. Because I _do_ know. I know that whatever success and peace I've had in my life, I owe to you."

Damnit. She hated it when he did that. Acted like a jerk and then turned it around on her like that. Made her feel like she couldn't possibly be mad at him. Reminded her that he really did love her. Reminded her how irresistibly charming he could be, right when she most wanted to resist him.

"I'm applying for that job at the Women's Center," she said, "and if I get it, I hope you'll be supportive of me the way I've been supportive of you. Supporting me means not grumbling about the fact that I won't be able to do as much for you. It means taking on some more of the chores yourself. And maybe – if you can go so far – it means telling me that you're proud of the job I do at work."

"Does it mean administering you stress relief through sexual favors after a long day at work?"

She burst out laughing. Damn him! She tried to stop the laugh and frown instead. She was able to stop the laugh, but she couldn't frown. She was smiling. "Yes," she said. "Yes, if backrubs count as sexual favors."

"Well I'll give you a back rub any day, baby. I'll give you a back rub right now. Just slide off that shirt and roll on over on your stomach." He reached over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a circular container of lotion. "Coconut," he said. "Relaxing and fragrant."

"Not tonight, hon."

"It's just a backrub," he insisted.

"It's _never_ just a backrub with you." She rolled over. "Can you get that light?"

"Could I at least have a good night kiss?"

She rolled back over and kissed him. She wasn't particularly stingy about it either, but when he tried to make it a little more than a kiss, she pulled away. She wasn't mad at him anymore, but damn if she was going to let him think he'd done enough. He hadn't said he was okay with her applying for the job, and he hadn't said she deserved to pursue her own goals.

She knew she couldn't demand too much of Eric at one time. He could be poked, maybe even prodded lightly, to get him ambling in the right direction, but he couldn't be whipped into a gallop. Try that and he'd dig in his heels. And frankly she wouldn't have wanted it any other way. He was right. She'd have been bored with a man who bended too easily.

"G'night, babe," he said as he clicked the light off. "I love you."


	2. Dance with Anger

**Chapter 2: Dance with Anger**

When Coach Taylor returned from his evening coaching session with Jason, Julie and Tami were already in their rooms, and light was streaming beneath both doors. He stopped by Julie's and knocked before entering. His daughter was sitting up in bed reading something called _The Chosen. _"What's the book about?" he asked.

"Boys," she said, without looking up from the page.

"Boys?" He leaned against the door frame. "So, what, it's some kind of romance?"

She snorted. "No. It's about fathers and sons and Judaism and politics and coming of age. I have to read it for English."

"So how was your second day of school? You like the junior high?"

They'd moved to Midland the summer before her 6th grade year, so she hadn't had long to make friends before heading off to junior high. He knew it wasn't easy on her, but a year ago he'd been offered his current coaching position, which meant he could work directly with Jason as QB coach of the Tigers. The Taylors had been living in Lamesa before that, but Coach Taylor had commuted two hours round trip to Midland three times a week so he could continue to coach Jason privately.

"Yeah. I guess," Julie answered.

"Did you learn anything new and interesting?"

"Not much."

"Well what _did_ you learn?" he asked.

"Stuff."

Her eyes had not moved from the book. Eric remembered a time when Julie couldn't get enough of his attention. When _she_ would ask _him_ questions, and _he_ would be the one to get tired of answering. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten tired. "Thought I'd take you to a movie Saturday. Have us a little daddy daughter date. That new DreamWorks movie is still at the second run."

"DreamWorks? Dad, I'm twelve. Not two. Besides, I'm going to see _The Brothers Grimm _with Kim."

"Kim? Is she the one with the blonde, talky mother?"

"Yeah. We're going on Saturday morning. To a matinee."

"What's that movie rated?"

"Mom already said yes."

"But what's it rated?"

"Mom already said yes," Julie repeated.

"I didn't ask what mom said. I asked what it's rated."

"PG-13. Kim's mom's taking us and Kim's already 13."

"You're not."

"Mom already said yes."

He sighed. "A'ight then. I guess you and I'll just go to dinner instead. Feel like Chili's this weekend?"

"Sure. Can I invite my friend Marcus to come with us?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Marcus. We're partners. For our science project. We're going to work on it Saturday."

"Marcus, huh? Marcus."

"Yeah, that's his name. Don't wear it out."

"Why do you have a science project already?" he asked. "It's only the second day of school!"

Julie shrugged. "You and mom were the ones who wanted me to be on the advanced track, remember?"

More like just Mom, he thought, but he didn't say it. He wanted – and expected – Julie to do well in school. He wanted – and expected – her to go to college, but he hadn't agreed with Tami that she needed to take the advanced classes in every single subject. Privately, he'd said, "It's her first year out of elementary school. Let her ease in. Besides, it's not like we're paying for her to go to an Ivy league." And Tami had said Julie would get bored, and get in trouble, if she didn't challenge herself. And then it had finally occurred to both of them to ask what Julie herself wanted. Julie had wanted to take advanced English and history for certain. But she'd been on the fence about math and science. So Tami had pushed her off the fence.

"It's not due for three weeks, but Marcus and I want to get started. So, can he come with us to dinner?"

"No. You and I need to spend some quality father daughter time together."

"But he'll be over here until seven – "

"- Then you and I can go out for dinner at 7:30."

Julie sighed.

"Don't you want to spend time with your father?'

She glanced up at him. She looked sympathetic. He didn't like the look. He liked it better than her annoyed look, or her condescending look, or her irritated look, or her bored look, but he still didn't like it. "Sure, Dad. It'll be fun." She looked back down at her book.

He put his hand on the door knob. "G'night, Monkey Noodle."

"Nite." As he was closing the door, he heard her say, "Please don't call me Monkey Noodle in front of Marcus."

**/FNL/**

When Eric came into their bedroom, Tami was reading a book called _The Dance of Anger_. He tried to make out the subtitle between her fingers: _A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships. _This did not bode well.

He took off his Tigers cap and began unbuttoning his burnt orange jacket. "Did you tell Julie she could go to a PG-13 movie?"

"I looked into it." Like her daughter, Tami did not look up from her book. What did a man have to do to get some attention around here? "It seems okay. There's a lot of violence, but then she goes to your football games all the time."

"Football is _not_ violent." He hung up his jacket in the narrow, very full closet. "What about sex?"

"That's all you worry about. You don't care how many heads are rolling on the ground."

"Well, the violence is fake. But you can't fake nudity."

"Brief suggestive material. That's it. Besides, it stars Matt Damon. I can't tell her no to Matt Damon. He's just too cute."

Eric ignored the observation. He pulled off his shoes and tossed them on the closet floor. "How was your day?"

"I e-mailed over my resume," she said, "to the Woman's Center."

He didn't ask her what the point was, when he'd already told her that they might be moving at the end of the school year. She'd just have to quit at the end of the school year. Of course, it was by no means a guarantee he'd get the job. He was still a bit of an outsider in Dillon. He hadn't grown up there, but in a neighboring town. The Taylors had lived in Dillon for a few years, during which time Eric had worked with Jason in Pee Wee as well as coaching and teaching at one of the two junior highs, but they'd been gone for a while.

Tami said, "I'm brushing up on the literature in case I end up counseling."

"Oh. Is that why you're reading that book?" He asked as he sat on the bed and pulled off his socks. Then he pulled his polo off, leaving just the white undershirt, and stood and dropped his pants, revealing his green and black plaid boxers. He collected the clothes and tossed them into a laundry basket that barely fit on the closet floor before returning and getting under the covers.

"Just so you know," she informed him, "you're not getting laid tonight, and, frankly, I was being exceptionally generous last night. I could have been madder at you."

"Ohhhh…kay."

"So if you came in here expecting sex, you should revise your expectations. I'm going to read some more." She returned her eyes to her book.

"You don't want to cuddle?"

"I know what cuddling leads to with you."

"Not _always._"

She bent down and kissed his lips - a brief peck. "I want to read some more."

He patted his chest. She slid down and lay her head on his shoulder. He settled his chin on top of her head. She lifted her book above herself and started reading. She must have sensed he was reading it too, because she rolled over on her side and blocked the book with her body.

"I'm going to watch some game film," he said and rose. "Enjoy your dance with anger."

**/FNL/**

"You make the best lasagna," Eric told Tami.

"I guess I should just be grateful _somebody_ values my abilities to do _something_."

"What?" he asked, his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Nothing," Tami muttered. "I'll get more bread." She grabbed the bread basket and rose to head to the kitchen.

"What's with her?" Eric asked his daughter. Julie shrugged.

Eric rose and followed his wife to the kitchen. "Is something wrong, babe?"

"I got a call about my resume today."

"Oh."

"I thought, hey, this is great. I just sent it yesterday, and already they're calling me!"

"Oh."

She tossed the bread basket roughly on the counter. She opened the oven and pulled out the warm rolls that had just been sitting in there after she turned the oven off. "But no," she said. "They were just calling to tell me that they thought I was underqualified for the full-time counseling position, but they'd be happy to have me volunteer a few hours of my time every week to do the copying." She slammed the banking sheet down on the stove. "Copying!"

He didn't dare say anything at the moment.

She took a spatula and began violently breaking up the rolls. "Underqualified. I have a B.A. in psychology. They said master's preferred, but they didn't say _required_. And I have experience! I worked as a high school guidance counselor for two years before Julie was born! Well, one and a half anyway. Because we had to move halfway through the year for your job."

"Sorry, babe," he finally ventured. "Sorry you didn't get it."

She dropped the rolls into the basket. She clutched it, picked it up, and turned. "That's just the thing," she said. "You're not sorry I didn't get it. You're not sorry at all."

She began walking back to the dining room. He put a hand on her waist to stop her. "I'm sorry that not getting the job upset and disappointed you. I'm sorry you're angry and hurt. I _am_ sorry about all that."

She reached down and took his hand off her hip. "I know you are," she said, her voice softened. "I just wish you could be sorry I didn't get the job too."

When they were back at the table, Eric saw Julie had eaten the salad and the corn and the bread but hadn't touched the lasagna. "You need to finish that," he said, pointing across the table. "You don't need to lose any weight."

Last week, for the first time in her young life, Julie had used the word "diet" in reference to herself. She'd been standing in the hallway looking at herself in the hall mirror that was attached to the wall just outside the bathroom. She'd cocked her head and said, "I need to go on a diet." Eric and Tami happened to be passing in the hall behind her. Tami had frozen and shot Eric an anxious look. Eric had left Tami there alone in the hall to talk to their daughter.

"It's not that," Julie said. "It has meat in it. I'm not eating meat anymore,"

"Since when?" Eric asked.

"Since yesterday. I'm not eating it anymore. Ever. I'm a vegetarian now."

"No," Eric said, "you're not."

"Yes," Julie replied, just as emphatically, "I am."

"No, you can't be a vegetarian. It's not healthy."

"The proper word is healthful," Julie corrected him. "And in fact, it's perfectly healthful. But more importantly, it's humane."

"Humane?" Coach Taylor asked, ripping a roll in half. "Oh, you think it's wrong to kill animals so we can live now?" He lathered his roll with butter.

"We don't need to kill animals to live. We can live without killing animals."

"We can't live _as well_. And animals die eventually anyway."

"So do people, Dad!"

"Yes, but it's not culturally acceptable to kill and eat people. Because people are more important than animals."

Tami smiled tensely but did not yet make a contribution to the conversation.

"So you're saying Bugsy isn't important?"

Bugsy was their pug, and he was now lying on his stomach under the table, ready to serve as both vacuum cleaner and mop, should any stray bits find their way to his feet. They'd gotten him when Julie was five. Eric had wanted a manly dog, but a neighbor's pug had given birth and Julie had fallen utterly in love with the damn little thing. Tami had told Eric the dog wasn't for him, anyway, it was for Julie, and didn't he want to make his little girl's face light up on Christmas? Not only was the dog little, but it acted like a damn cat. Nevertheless, he'd grown fond of Bugsy over the past seven years.

"We don't eat dogs." He put his roll down on his plate and looked straight at his daughter. "You aren't becoming a vegetarian and that's final. You won't get enough protein or vitamin B."

"Marcus is a vegetarian and he says there all sorts of non-meat sources of protein and – "

"Marcus, huh?" Eric asked. "You think some seventh grade boy knows more than your father? You know, I studied nutrition in college as part of my sports program. Meat is your surest way of getting vitamin B12. And if you don't get B12, you'll get depressed."

"Have you ever heard of supplements, Dad?"

"I've heard of them, yes. But it's always better to get your nutrients through food."

"Eric, could I speak to you for a moment in the kitchen?" Coach Taylor turned his gaze from his daughter to his wife. He took his napkin out of his lap and followed her from the dining room to the kitchen. The kitchen was tight and narrow, with one long row of counter and a half wall on each side. One side of the kitchen opened to the dining room, and the other on the hallway that wrapped around to the living room. They stood by the sink.

"Let it go," Tami said.

"Say what?"

"Let it go. I'll prepare some protein-rich, vegetarian sides from now on. I'll make sure she takes a daily vitamin."

"That's ridiculous! You shouldn't have to go to the trouble of preparing separate sides for her!"

"She'll do this for a few weeks, she'll get tired of it, and then she'll go back to eating meat. Trust me. It isn't going to last. It's easier just to let it go. It's easier for everyone."

He sighed. He turned and walked back to the dining room and sat at the table. "Your mother and I have decided you may be a vegetarian," he announced.

**/FNL/**

Eric went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of the wine Tami had opened that evening. He turned the bottle over and only a single drop went into his glass. That was strange. She had just opened it before dinner, and he'd had a beer with dinner. He hadn't had any wine.

"Tami, babe," he said, walking into the living room where she sat reading, a half full glass of wine in front of her on the coffee table. Julie was in bed. "Did you drink that whole bottle of wine by yourself?"

"Unless you or Julie had some," she answered, without turning around to look at him.

From where he stood behind the couch, he asked, "The _whole_ bottle?"

"I got some bad news today, Eric. I learned I didn't get the job, remember? It's called self-medicating. Which I _know_, because _I_ studied psychology and I'm a good counselor even if _they_ don't think so."

"Okay," he said as he took a cautious step backward from the couch. "I'll just go get a beer."

Later that night, in bed, he put an arm around her and spooned up from behind. He kissed her ear. His hand slid up and cupped a breast. His thumb slid over her nipple, pushing the fabric of her T-shirt in small circles against it. She took his hand and pushed it away.

"Babe," he said. "It's been a while."

"I'm not in the mood tonight. Did you forget already? I _just_ got turned down for that job _today_. Not that you care."

He sighed and rolled on his back. "I _do_ care," he said. "I do care that you feel bad about it. Not that you care that I care."

"Goodnight," she said.

He yanked the blanket off himself. "I'm going to watch game film."


	3. Help Wanted

**Chapter 3: Help Wanted**

Tami groaned. She sat up and groaned again. She should have had some water before bed. She turned to pat Eric, to ask him to get her some water, but the bed was empty. The clock said 8 AM. _Shit._ Julie's bus left at 7:45 and Eric wouldn't be there to see her off. He left for work at 6:50 AM.

She stumbled out of the bedroom, stopped off at the bathroom, and then went on to the kitchen. There were dirty dishes in the sink and a pan on the stove that appeared to be coated with bacon grease. So he'd fed them a hot breakfast at least. Well, fed himself. Julie wouldn't be eating the bacon. She glanced back into the sink and saw the cereal bowl.

Tami didn't know why she'd been concerned that she overslept. Of course Eric could feed himself. He always made them all breakfast on weekends. Of course Eric could leave Julie in the house and go off to work and Julie would catch her bus on time. Of course everything would run smoothly without her. Hadn't that been what she'd been telling Eric all along anyway? That when she went back to work, they'd all do just fine?

Julie certainly didn't need Tami's morning checklist. _Did you pack your lunch? Did you eat your breakfast? Did you remember your math book? Did you…_ The checklist Tami went through every morning while Julie rolled her eyes. Tami did it because it had become a habit. Walking Julie to the bus stop had once been a habit too, until Julie was in third grade, and the eight-year-old had made her mortification clear on the first day, and halfway to the bus stop, Tami had said, "Fine! Fine!" and turned around and went home. But there were other habits she hadn't dropped yet, and she ought to, because Julie was growing up. Tami's going back to work would be good for **both** mother and daughter.

Tami touched the coffee pot. It was an automatic sort that turned itself off, and though off, it was still lukewarm. She poured herself a cup and walked out to the dining room. She should be drinking water, not coffee, but she'd hydrate herself later. She wanted coffee. She wanted it now.

She sat down at the dining room table. She saw that Eric had left the newspaper wide open. Seriously? He couldn't be bothered to wash the dishes, but couldn't he _at least_ be bothered to fold the paper back up when he was done reading it?

Then she noticed it wasn't the Sports section that was open. It was the Help Wanted section. He'd circled three ads with a red pen. The first was for a guidance counselor position at a local private school that had grades K through 12. The second was for a research assistant for a psychological study. And the third was for an exotic dancer.

She laughed aloud in the silent house.

Yes, her husband could not be whipped into action. But when he was prodded, and he began ever so slowly to amble, he eventually got there. Now, when she actually _got_ a job, that might be a different story all together, but he was at least strolling in the right direction.

**/FNL/**

They both went to bed at the same time that night. Tami reached for Eric's hand, and, lying on their backs, they laced their fingers together. "Did you circle some jobs in the help wanted section today?" she asked.

"I don't know anything about that."

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "Thank you. I applied for all of them."

He turned his head slightly. "_All _of them?"

"Well, no," she said, smiling, "Just the two."

He nodded.

"I'm not really interested in doing research."

He laughed, loud, sharp, and quick. "Well, then you better practice for your interview, baby." He sat up in bed and patted his lap. "Go ahead. I'll help you prepare."

"I think it's more important to be relaxed than to be prepared. So why don't you give me that backrub you offered a couple of nights ago?"

She drew her shirt off over her head and lay down on her stomach. She rested her head sideways on the pillow, her arms tucked under it, and listened to him rustle in the night stand for the lotion. He put a knee on either side of her upper thighs so he would be in position to massage her. The lotion was cool when it first touched her bare skin, but his touch warmed it.

"Just a back rub," he promised as he began to knead her shoulders. His voice was husky and thrilling as he bent to whisper, "for the wife I value and the woman I love."

She loved it when he talked to her like that. Sweet nothings in a sultry voice. She loved it, and he damn well knew it. _Just a backrub my ass._

This was going to be predictable, but not in a boring way – no - in an expectant way. He was going to spend some time working on her shoulders and her neck. Then he was going to work his way slowly down. He was going to slip his hands into her sweat pants and panties and slide them down and off her, promising he was only doing it so he could work her glutes. And he would work them, but then his hands would go away, long enough for him to take off his boxers. Then his lips would be on her lower back, soft and teasing, working their way up, until he was nipping at her neck and ear. Meanwhile one of his hands would slip between her legs to ease them apart. And soon enough, she would be ready for him.

Tami smiled and closed her eyes.

**/FNL/**

Eric was shaking the grass clippings out into the composter at the front corner of the garage when Tami approached. "I brought you some lemonade, sugar."

He dropped the bag, took the glass from her hands, and drained it.

"That's what I like to see," she said. "A hardworking man."

He smiled. "Yeah?" he asked suggestively, sliding his free hand around her waist and pulling her close, "Is that what you like?"

"Mhmmm…." She kissed him. "And you know what the number three aphrodisiacal scent it for women?"

"A sweaty man?"

"Nope. Fresh cut grass."

"Really now? What's number one and two?"

She kissed his cheek and smiled. "I'm not telling you that. I wouldn't give you that much power."

"But fresh cut grass is number three?" He leaned in to kiss her again, but she pulled back as a car pulled into the driveway. The engine went off and two doors opened. Julie got out of one and Kim's mother got out of the other.

"They enjoyed the movie," Kim's mom said. "Thanks for letting us take Julie, Coach Taylor."

"Sure."

"You've been mowing the lawn?" Kim's mom asked him with a smile. "It's a hot day, isn't it?"

"Pretty warm, yeah," he answered as Julie headed for the house and disappeared inside. It was the last week of August, and summer did not seem to be on its way out. He hoped the temperatures cooled at least a few degrees before the Tigers played their first game of the regular season this coming Friday.

At the last scrimmage, one of their players had ended up in the hospital for dehydration, which precipitated a severe chewing out of Eric by the head coach, as though making sure the running backs drank enough was somehow his responsibility as a QB coach. Eric had never worked for a more blame-shifting, emotionally erratic man. The only benefit to Coach Erickson's unpleasant personality was that it had drawn the assistant coaches closely together and sent them drinking and bitching together after practices, though Eric only had permission to join in once a week. Or at least, that's what he told the guys. It was easier to use Tami as an excuse than to admit that he actually preferred to be home most of the time.

When Kim and her mother were gone, Tami said, "I don't like the way that woman flirts with you. And with me standing right here."

"What are you talking about? She doesn't flirt with me."

"Oh, Coach Taylor," Tami gushed, "thank you for _personally_ letting cute little platinum-blonde me take Julie to the movies. Oh Coach Taylor, look how the hot, wet air causes that shirt to cling tightly to your manly, muscular chest."

"She did not say any such thing."

"That's _exactly_ what she said," Tami insisted.

"Well, I didn't notice."

She laughed and patted his cheek. "You know what, hon? I _actually_ believe you didn't. If it were any other man but you making that claim, it would be impossible to believe."

"What are you saying? That I'm dense?"

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him leisurely. "I'm saying you have no idea how good-looking you are. And I kind of like that. You also have very good taste in women and don't really pay attention to the classless ones."

"I _do_ have very good taste in women." He kissed her again, his tongue sweet and tangy. "_Very_ good."

They were interrupted yet again by an approach of another car in the driveway. This time a boy got out. This must be the much talked about Marcus. From within the car, the father, a large, stern-looking black man, rolled down the window. "You must be Mrs. Taylor and Coach Taylor." Eric looked from the father to the son and wondered how the boy could be so scrawny compared to his dad, who looked like he might have played football back in the day. Tami stepped forward and introduced herself and Eric. The man agreed to return at 6:30 to pick up his son.

Eric watched Tami show Marcus inside. The boy was pushing his glasses up on his nose as he stepped through the door. The kid did not look like he could ever be a football player. Or _any_ kind of athlete. He didn't look like much of a charmer either. He looked like a vegetarian science nerd. Maybe Eric didn't have much to worry about after all.

**/FNL/**

Eric peeked into the dining room. "You kids need anything in here?" he asked.

"No," Julie said, shooting him an annoyed look. They had about six different library books opened and spread out across the table, and they were writing things down on colored notecards.

"A snack?" Coach Taylor asked.

"If we did we could get it ourselves," Julie replied.

"But thanks for asking, sir," Marcus added.

They were sitting awfully close together. Why did they have to sit that close together, on the same side of the table, for a science project?

"Eric," Tami called from the living room. "Hon, I need your help with something."

He looked from Marcus to Julie and then went to the living room. "Leave them alone," Tami said. "If you go in there again I'm going to smack you."

"You want to spank me, baby?" He leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her. He looked at the screen of her laptop. "Working on your resume?" he asked.

"Yep."

"When were you a Consumer Psychology Researcher?"

"In high school," she answered. "When I worked at the mall."

"Uh-huh. Was that about the same time I was a sanitation engineer at that Episcopalian church?"

"I think you had a formal title, actually. It was sexton."

In her ear, he whispered, "That's right, baby. I was a mighty fine _sex_ton."

"Leave me alone too," she said through her laughter.

He smiled and kissed her earlobe. "A'ight. I just need to go to the kitchen to get a beer."

"Do not go through the dining room!" she ordered. "Go around the other side!"

"Dining room's quicker."

**/ FNL /**

"You kids workin' hard?" Eric eyed Marcus and Julie as he passed back out of the kitchen with his beer. Marcus nodded to him in a friendly sort of way, as though the spindly, spectacled kid wasn't even a tiny bit intimidated by his presence. Why was that, Eric wondered? He was suspicious of twelve-year-old boys with too much self-confidence. No young man should have that much self-confidence at such an awkward age, especially not when he was sitting next to a girl.

Julie opened her eyes wide at her father. Those eyes said, "_Daaaaaad! Leave already!_" Eric glanced at the books and notecards on the table and then exited the dining room, but he went around the corner of the partial wall that opened onto it, and he stood in the hallway leaning against the wall and listening.

"Why don't you have a Texas accent when both your parents do?" Eric heard Marcus ask.

"I've worked not to have it," Julie said.

"Why?"

Eric couldn't see her, but he imagined she shrugged. "I don't know. I just…I've always wanted to live somewhere else. We used to. I was actually born near Chicago. I lived there until I was almost four, because my Dad had a job as an assistant coach at a high school there, but he always wanted to get back to Texas because Texas is football! So next thing I know, goodbye art museums."

Eric gritted his teeth. As if Julie had ever gone to the art museum as a three year old. As if she could remember anything about Chicago. Texas was home. Why Julie couldn't bring herself to appreciate the region that had fostered both her parents, a state that understood the importance of football, a land of stark beauty and largely friendly people, he did not understand.

Granted, they had lived three places in Texas since she was four, and all had been relatively small west Texas towns, which had a rather uniform culture of their own. Julie's creativity, sensitivity, and intelligence had not always made her as comfortable as she might have been in a more diverse suburb or a large city. That was part of Tami's argument in insisting that Julie sign up for _all_ advanced classes, so that she would more easily find a niche where she didn't feel so out of place.

"I was talking in complete sentences by the time I was one," Julie was now claiming, "so maybe I just didn't develop the accent." Eric pulled away from where he was leaned against the wall. Julie was most certainly not talking in complete sentences by the age of one, though she had been an early talker, and her vocabulary had early surprised her parents. Was she trying to impress this science nerd?

"Well, you don't have a Chicago accent either," Marcus was saying. "I was supposed ta see de Bearsss but I got stuck in trraaafic ahn I think we should just stay home and drink some _b-ear-s_."

Julie snorted at Marcus's attempt at humor, and Eric decided he'd eavesdropped long enough. Besides, he would probably have to pass through the dining room to the kitchen to get another beer in half an hour anyway.


	4. Speak Softly

**Chapter 4: Speak Softly**

"How did you like the movie?" Eric scoured the menu, as though he didn't know what was on it. Chili's was the only sit-down restaurant they ever went to as a family. In Lamesa, it had been Bennigan's. Tonight Tami was staying at home and eating leftovers to allow Eric some time to connect with Julie.

"It was okay." Julie turned her straw in her water cup. She'd asked for lime instead of lemon with her water. The special request annoyed Coach Taylor a little. Ever since she'd gotten in that GT group in sixth grade, where they pulled them out of class to "enrich" them, she'd gotten a little particular. Not that he wasn't proud of her academic success. He was glad she was smart, like her mother. Hell, maybe he could even say she was smart like her father, although Eric didn't typically think of himself as "smart," if only because no one had ever _called_ him "smart." Well, Tami had, on occasion, implied she respected his intelligence - when she wasn't calling him an idiot, that was.

School had never been especially difficult for him. He was a solid B student, even though he left all his books in his locker at the end of the day. He never put much effort into academics, because his time and focus was consumed by football, but he'd always done moderately well, even without trying. He was quick to figure out the little tricks in taking multiple choice quizzes, the giveaways. He did well with essay tests too, because he'd learned early on that words had power, that what you said didn't have to be true or accurate or even possible. You just had to say it _well_, and people would believe you knew what you were talking about. People would be persuaded. Teachers. Girls. Football players. If you chose your words well, you could make your history teacher believe you'd actually read the autobiography of Benjamin Franklin and that you knew something about his character as a statesman. You could make your team believe that they really did have a good chance of coming from behind and winning this impossible game. You could make your wife believe you were fine with her applying for a job, even if you were secretly terrified by the idea of the change that would come in the wake of her full-time career. Well-chosen words went a long way.

Eric knew that being smart made most things a little bit easier. All the tasks you had to accomplish could be done more quickly, but it could also be frustrating, sometimes, waiting for everyone else to catch up, to grasp the plan, to understand the plays. And if you let on how smart you were, it could make you the object of ridicule, at least it could in the circles he'd been a part of in his youth. And if you went even further and _rubbed in_ how smart you were, then that was an invitation to an ass kicking. He was glad Julie was smart. He hadn't married a dummy, and he sure didn't want to raise one. But a person didn't have to draw attention to how smart she was. A person could be both smart and humble. Like Tami. Most people had no idea just how smart his wife was.

"What was your favorite part?" he asked.

"All the parts with Heath Ledger." Julie squeezed her lime into her water.

"I thought your mom said you liked Matt Damon."

"No," Julie dropped her lime into the cup. "_Mom_ likes Matt Damon. She likes Heath Ledger too. She likes blondes."

"No she doesn't." Eric closed his menu and set it on the table. "She likes tall dark and handsome."

Julie smiled affectionately. Now that was his favorite of her smiles, especially since it wasn't accompanied by eye rolling, as too many of her expressions had been lately. "You keep telling yourself that, Dad."

He tapped the menu. "Want to get an appetizer? Boneless Buffalo Wings?"

"I'm not eating meat, remember?" she asked. "We can get the spinach and artichoke dip."

"You think they'll add bacon to that if I ask?" He smiled across the table at her. She looked back, and he could tell she was trying not to laugh, trying not to let him amuse her. In the end, though, she did laugh. "See," he said, "you _can_ still have fun with your old man."

**/FNL/**

Eric returned to the bedroom after brushing his teeth in the hall bathroom. "Is it just me," Eric asked his wife as he shut the door. "Or is that Marcus kid odd?"

Tami folded down the covers. "It's just you."

He slid his watch off and lay it on the nightstand. "He's a little weird."

Tami got in under the blankets and patted the bed next to her. He got in and sat back against the headboard.

"I had a relaxing time to myself this evening," Tami said with a smile. "Had a little wine, watched _A Knight's Tale_. Just reeeeelaxed."

"How long are they going to be working on this science project?"

Tami turned and patted his cheek and smiled. "As long as it takes."

"Julie talked about him through half of dinner. I had to bite my tongue the whole time." And he had. Literally. He was determined not to ruin their daddy daughter date, because it had been going so well. His tongue was still a little sore.

"Well he's smart," she said, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. "And polite. Would you rather she be spending all this time working with a dumb, rude jock?"

He scooted down and lay his head on the pillow. "Jocks can be smart and polite you know."

She laughed and lay down next to him. "I've never met one," she teased and then kissed him.

He smiled and beneath her lightly kissing lips muttered, "Yeah. I guess you just have a thing for stupid and rude. It turns you on." Her mouth was on his chin now. His arm went around her and he rested his hand on the small of her back. "That's why you chased this dumb jock in high school."

She was kissing his ear when his words made her laugh, and her warm breath tickled. "I don't think _I_ was the one chasing _you_."

"Really? Then how did you manage to catch me? Because I am caught, baby. Ensnared."

"Ensnared," she repeated with a giggle, and kissed his shoulder through the white cotton of his undershirt.

"You _are_ relaxed," he observed. He much preferred happy tipsy Tami to sullen tipsy Tami. He supposed it was true, alcohol just magnified what was already beneath at the moment, and she'd been in a good mood all day. She was laughing when he rolled her onto her back and began kissing her neck. He looked at her and smiled. "Did you appreciate how I chose ensnared instead of some other word? That's a ten-cent word, right?"

"More like a three-cent word."

"Mhmmm…" He eased his hands down to the tail of her nightshirt and began pushing it up. He tickled her bare stomach with his kisses. "I don't impress you with my mental prowess?"

She put a hand in his hair and lightly pushed his head downward. "Eric, I'm really not interested in your mental prowess right now."

He raised his head off her stomach and leaned on his forearms which were on either side of her hips. "What _are_ you interested in?"

"I think you know."

"Yes, I think I do," he said, lifting one hand from the bed and hooking a finger into her panties. Smiling, he ran his tongue underneath his top row of teeth. "Because I'm astute."

Later Eric lay on his back, eyes closed, slight smile on his face, Tami in his arms. She tickled his ribs and he squirmed. "Now I'm ready for you to wow me with your mental prowess."

"What?" he asked.

"I'm ready for some scintillating conversation. Entertain me."

"_Now?_ I'm a little too relaxed to think."

"C'mon now!" she insisted. "You owe me."

"_I_ owe _you_? I thought I was the one servicing you tonight."

"I think some mutual servicing occurred. So talk to me."

"About what?" he asked.

"What are you reading right now?"

"The back of my eyelids."

She sat up, grabbed her pillow, and smacked him.

"Ow!" His eyes shot open and his smile morphed into a stern, straight line. "That was uncalled for. I couldn't do that to you and get away with it."

"Of course not. You're a man."

"Double standard." He rubbed his chest.

"Don't be a baby. I barely touched you. But now that I've got your attention, talk to me." She lay back down, her elbow on the bed and her head leaned against her hand, and looked at him.

"_The Chosen_."

"What?"

"That's what I'm reading," he said, still massaging his chest with his finger tips and wincing a little, but getting no sympathy. He stopped and put his hands behind his head instead. "It's the book Julie just finished reading for English. She said she didn't expect to like it but ended up liking it a lot. So I thought I'd read it. See if I can't discuss it with her."

He turned his head slightly so he could look at her, and he saw her smile, the one he called her "indulgent smile." She was always pretty when she smiled but this one irked him a little. He didn't like to be indulged.

"That's so sweet," she said.

"Sweet?" he grumbled. "_Sweet_?"

She leaned in and kissed him. "You know what's sexy?"

"Apparently Matt Damon. Just watch a little _Knight's Tale_ and suddenly you want a little action as soon as I come to bed."

"Matt Damon's not in that, hon. That stars Heath Ledger. And I was thinking a good father."

"Huh?"

"I was thinking it's very sexy when a man is a good father." She kissed him again and then settled her head against his shoulder.

"Does this mean we're going for two?"

"No," she said. "What else are you reading? I saw you had another book in your duffle bag." She raised her head. "Remember when you used to read Masterplots for book reports? You couldn't even bother with the Cliff Notes. They were too long. You went straight for the Masterplots. And now look at all the books you read."

"It's completely different when there's a good _reason_ to read. Or when you're reading what you actually _want_ to read. Why don't they just let kids read what they want to read and write reports on that?"

"Because half of them would read comic books and the other half would read fanfiction."

"What's fanfiction?"

She settled her head back on his shoulder. "Never mind. Tell me what else you're reading."

He lifted a strand of her hair and twirled it absently around his finger. "_When Trumpets Call_."

"That sounds like a Newberry Award book for girls."

"It's a biography of Teddy Roosevelt."

"Isn't this your third Teddy Roosevelt biography in the last two years?" she asked rhetorically. "I don't know why you love that guy so much."

"Because he spoke softly and carried a big stick. Just like me."

She snorted.

"Hey, it's true. I carry a very big stick. You should know."

"I'm not laughing with you, Eric, just so you know. I'm laughing _at_ you."

"Laugh all you want, baby. You weren't laughing ten minutes ago. You were screaming."

"That's just because I got a charlie horse."

"Yeah, but who _gave_ you that charlie horse? Who's the man?"

"You're the man," she said through her chortle, and then she kissed his chest. "You're _my_ man, anyway. And you'll do."

"Mhmmm…" he rubbed her back and then put his other arm around her too. "I suppose there are worse things than being sufficient."

She snuggled in close. "I love you, Eric. I really do." Her hand slid from his side to his stomach. "You make me laugh." She trailed it downward.

His eyes fell shut and he drew in his breath sharply. "Damn, Tami."

"Let's go for two after all." She kissed his ear and whispered, "Just be sure to speak softly."


	5. Adult Supervision

**Chapter 5: Adult Supervision **

It was about five when Eric got home from practice. He tossed his hat and keys on top of the entertainment center, where he wouldn't think to look for them tomorrow morning when he went stomping around the house grousing, "Tami! Tami! Where'd you put my keys?"

He heard the sound of a boy's voice in the dining room, saying, "You're so funny, Julie. I love your sense of humor."

Coach Taylor walked rapidly to the dining room and leaned against the frame of the opening. Marcus was there with Julie. _Alone_ with Julie. They had poster board and markers spread out across the table. They also had Eric's old college football helmet, which he'd been allowed to keep as a pity parting gift when he'd injured himself and been kicked off the team, told he wouldn't recover in time, and, besides, he wasn't that good to begin with. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. Sure, you can stick around as equipment manager. No, we won't pay you. And stop asking to shadow the coach.

"Why do you have my helmet?" he asked.

"It's for our science project," Julie answered him. "We're testing how well different kinds of helmets protect against impact. You know, bike helmets, hockey helmets, football helmets – Marcus brought his baseball helmet," she said, pointing to a helmet on one of the dining room chairs. "We're going to go outside and test them later."

Marcus played baseball? Seriously? That scrawny kid? Eric was skeptical. But there was a more important issue to address - - "You are _not_ testing my helmet."

"But we need to!" Julie insisted.

"What if it gets damaged!"

"Well if it did, wouldn't you want to KNOW that, Dad? Don't you want to know how safe those things really are?"

"Who came up with this idea?"

Marcus raised a hand. "Impact absorption. Retention system. Resistance to roll-off," he said. "All scientific concepts."

"It's a good idea," Julie insisted. "Besides, the testing's going to be fun."

"Well you aren't using my old helmet." Coach Taylor stepped forward and plucked it off the table. "Find something else." He began to walk back to the open doorway of the dining room. He turned. "Where's your mother? Is she in the bedroom?"

"No. She left twenty minutes ago for an interview." And just left Julie alone in the house with a boy? "Can Marcus stay for dinner?"

"When's your mom planning for us to eat?"

"She said for you to cook when you got home. She left you a recipe and instructions on the kitchen counter. She said to have it ready by six."

Eric grunted and left, replaced the helmet in the storage closet, and returned to the dining room. "Marcus, what do you like on your pizza?" he asked. "I assume Julie wants bacon, sausage, and pepperoni."

"Well, sir, I'm actually a vegetarian, so if it wouldn't be too terribly much trouble – "

"- I was kidding. She wants tomato, garlic, and onion."

"That's fine with me," Marcus replied.

"Then I'll go order."

**/FNL/**

"My interview went really well," Tami called as she came through the door. She sat down at the dinner table and looked at the pizza. "I left you a recipe."

"I didn't have time to cook," Eric answered.

"You had plenty of time. It would have taken 30-40 minutes. About as long as it takes to deliver a pizza."

"I had to work on some game plans, and" he looked from Marcus to Julie and then straight at Tami, "_supervise_."

Tami closed her eyes and shook her head.

"So you think you'll get the job?" Julie asked.

Tami nodded. "I think I have a really good chance."

"Which one is this?" Eric asked, bypassing the vegetable pizza for the meat lover's and placing a slice on the plate.

"The research assistant one. For psychological studies."

"Psychological studies," Marcus said, cutting his pizza with a knife and fork. Eric watched him. He didn't know which would be worse: Julie spending all this time with an overly popular, arrogant junior high quarterback who flirted with girl after girl, or a kid who cut his pizza with a knife and fork. Marcus looked over at Julie with a peculiar smile and said in an ominous voice, "I hope the study doesn't go terribly awry."

Julie and Marcus laughed. Tami looked at Eric with raised eyebrows. "Excuse me?" she asked Marcus.

"Just…you know…" Marcus said laughing. "That would make a great horror story. A psychological study gone terribly awry. I need to jot that down." He pulled a miniature spiral notebook out of his back pants pocket and pencil out of his front shirt pocket and began writing furiously. Then he shoved them both back into his pockets and resumed eating his pizza.

**/FNL/**

"Still think it's just me?" Eric asked as he shut the bedroom door.

Tami sat cross-legged on the bed brushing her hair. "Okay, I agree, Marcus is a little peculiar. But you better get used to him, because I think he's going to be around a lot."

"How much longer are they working on that project anyway?"

"I think he's going to be around beyond the project, Eric. I think our girl has developed her first bonified crush."

"On _that_ kid?' Tami nodded while sat down on the bed. "Well that's got to be nipped in the bud. For one, she is _way_ too young to date."

"I agree completely. She's not dating until she's 14."

"17."

"14."

"18."

"14," Tami repeated.

"19."

"15. Can we agree on 15?"

"Fine."

"But Marcus will find reasons to come over, Eric. School projects. Homework. They'll be friends, and they'll flirt a little. Get used to him."

Eric grunted and slid under the covers. He sat up, his hands clasped tightly on his lap above the blankets. "You shouldn't have left them alone together."

"What?" She leaned over and put her brush on the nightstand.

"They were alone together in the dining room when I got home."

Tami snaked under the covers next to him. "It was fifteen minutes."

"It was twenty."

"I couldn't be late for my interview. What was I supposed to do?"

"And what if I hadn't gotten home at five? What if they were alone for another fifteen minutes? Or another thirty?"

"What if they _were_?" she asked with mock horror.

"You're the one who just said she has a crush on him."

"What are they going to do in fifteen to thirty minutes, Eric? You think they're going to go have sex on top of her pink comforter beneath her poster of the Jonas Brothers?"

He put his hands abruptly over his ears. "Don't say that."

She took one of his hands away from his ear and leaned in close. "They're twelve Eric. Twelve. Maybe if he's really bold he'll try to sneak a kiss, and I'm pretty sure he could manage that in the school hallway."

He took his other hand down and glared at her. "You don't know what it's like," he said. "You haven't been in junior high in well over twenty years."

"_Well_ over?"

"I was coaching junior high just a few years ago, and let me tell you, it's different now."

"I doubt that."

"A _lot_ different. Trust me. I was with those boys. I heard what they had to say."

She snorted. "Football players."

"Oh, I forgot. They're the worst offenders, right?"

"Hon, you know that what boys say in the locker room doesn't always comport with reality."

"Trust me, it's different. Everything's starting younger now. _Everything. _You heard about how they caught that girl in the boys' bathroom - "

" - Well Julie's not going to be giving blow jobs in the boys' bathroom, Eric."

He put his hands back on his ears.

"You brought it up!" She pulled his hand away again. "That was an aberration. You know that was a complete aberration. That's not the _norm_. And even if it was, how would my being home while they're working on a science project prevent _that_? That's not prevented by constant adult supervision at home. That's prevented by teaching your daughter dignity and self-respect. And I think we've done that."

"I don't want them alone together in the house. And that's final."

She turned her gaze on him slowly. "Fine. Next time I have to run out while they're both here, I'll call you, and you can come home early." She flopped over, her back to him, and said, "Get the light."

**/FNL/**

"What's this?" Eric asked as he sat down to the dinner table two evenings later. He raised the bottle of champagne and looked at it under the overhead light.

"We're celebrating," Tami said.

"Celebrating what?"

"I got the position. Not the research one. The other one I interviewed for today. They offered it to me right on the spot. The counselor position. At Veritas Academy. For K through 12th grade. They're losing their counselor next week. So I start Monday!"

"Oh."

"Oh?" Tami asked. "Oh?"

"Congratulations," he said, with no more enthusiasm. "That was…fast."

"Well, they need someone to start right away."

"I'm just glad it's not at my junior high," Julie said, and then, in response to her mom's pained expression - "I'm proud of you, Mom. You'll do a great job."

"Thanks, Julie babe," Tami said. "It's nice that someone in this family is proud of me."

Eric swallowed. "I'm proud too," he said. "And I know you'll do a great job." He grabbed the champagne and struggled to open it. The cork made a loud pop. He poured it into his and Tami's flutes. He put down the bottle and raised the glass. "To you, Tami, baby. To your new job."

Cautiously, she raised her own flute, and toasted him across the table. Sipping, she searched his eyes. He seemed more trepid than proud, but he was saying the right words, anyway. She had to give him that much.


	6. Let's Get It Over With

**Chapter 6: Let's Get it Over With**

Coach Taylor sat on the couch sipping his glass of scotch and staring into space. He still had his cap on. Tami slid on the couch next to him and completed the next step in the post-game ritual. She patted his leg and said, "Good game, hon." He'd just completed the first game of the regular season.

He brought the scotch slowly to his lips and swallowed. "We lost."

"You came close. You were expected to lose by more."

He turned and looked at her, eyes narrowed.

"By most people in Midland. Not by _me_, of course. I thought you might win. And I _knew_ you'd come close."

He sighed. "It isn't the team. It's Coach Erickson. We told him to change that last play. He just won't listen. What's the point of having assistant coaches?"

Tami stroked his cheek. "Sorry, hon."

"I hate this job."

"You don't _hate_ it."

"I hate it."

"_You_ wanted to move here," she reminded him. "Julie and I would have been happy to stay in Lamesa."

"I know. But it's a higher division. It's good for my career. And Jason's here. For now anyway. I'm sure they'll move back to Dillon this summer."

Tami let her hand slide away from his face. She put her arm on the back of the couch behind him. "You're going to try to get hired over there, aren't you?"

"I told you that weeks ago."

"Which means I get to work this job for only one school year. Not even, since I already missed the first two weeks of school."

"There's no guarantee I'll be hired next season." He looked at her apologetically. "And even if I am, that's one full school year. It'll be good experience for you. I'm proud of you for getting that job so fast."

"Are you?"

He set his scotch down on the coffee table. "Yeah." He beckoned her with a tilt of his head. "C'mere." She slid closer and they kissed.

"I'm a little nervous," she said when the kiss broke. "I haven't been a counselor in over twelve years."

"You'll do an amazin' job. You know kids. You're good with them. You know how to listen. You're great at that."

She smiled slightly. "I'm pretty excited about it. It'll feel good to be doing something meaningful again."

"You've been doing something meaningful. Right here at home. Very meaningful."

"I know. I mean I'll be glad to be working again. Are you going to handle it all right? You've gotten used…" she motioned around their tidy home and back towards the kitchen.

"I'll manage." He bent and kissed her again. "You're an amazin' wife, Tami. I love you."

She chuckled. "You want sex, don't you?"

"I love you even when I don't want sex."

"All ten minutes of the day you don't want it?"

He smiled and kissed her. "Would you prefer I didn't desire you?"

"No. I'd just prefer that at least some nights you'd prefer to split a bottle of wine and talk."

"What's wrong with doing both on the same night?"

She drew back and seemed to consider his proposition. "Okay, but let's do the sex first. And make it a quickie. Get it over with." She started to stand.

"Get it _over_ with," he repeated in a wounded tone.

She sat back down and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, hon, I really didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"How else could you _possibly_ mean it?"

"I just mean…I'm not in the mood as often as you are." She shrugged. "Sometimes I really am. I _love_ having sex with you. Just not _as_ often as you want to have it with me. So it's natural that we would compromise. Settle in the middle somewhere. More often than I want, less often than you do. I don't mind doing it _just_ for you sometimes. Because I love you."

"How often are you just getting it over with?"

"Eric – "

He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered in the general direction of the TV. "Well I don't want to do it if you don't want to do it. Believe it or not, Tami, but I actually care about your pleasure too."

She kissed his cheek. "I know you do, sweetheart. You're a very considerate lover. But what's wrong with a wife just wanting to satisfy her husband every now and then, without concern for herself?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, except you _**don't**_ want to. It's a _chore_. Like taking out the trash."

"It's not a _chore_."

"Get it _over_ with," he echoed her.

She sighed. "Eric, you need thicker skin."

"Get it over with."

"You know what it's like? It's like when you give me a backrub even when you'd rather be doing something else. Is it a _chore_ to give me backrubs? No. It's not a _chore_. You like that it makes me happy. You'd prefer to be doing something else. But you like the feeling of making me feel good. Right?"

He shrugged. "And I like touching you."

She laughed. "Well I like touching you too." She took his hand, stood, and tugged. "C'mon."

"A'ight," he said, standing up and putting his hands on her hips. "Let's see how quick I can be." He let go of her hips as they walked and slapped her butt. "See if I can beat my old record."

She looked back at him. "That's going to be hard to beat, sugar."

He stopped walking. He plucked his hat off and pointed it at her. "Just for that, we're going to see how long I can hold out."

Her lips curved. "And just for that, I'm going to make it impossible for you to hold out." She turned and continued walking to the bedroom, sashaying now.

**/ FNL /**

Eric filled Tami's glass with wine and then his own. He set the open bottle down on the small table between the two lawn chairs on the back patio. Some moths fluttered around the porch light but most of the bugs kept their distance because of the flames of the tiki candles that danced on either edge of the porch.

"That wasn't such a chore now was it?" he asked. Tami held her wine glass up to her face to cover her broad grin, but Eric could see the flash of teeth through the red liquid made translucent by the fire's glow. He smirked. "At least…I don't usually hear you murmuring _yes please_ when you're doing the dishes. And I don't often recall you begging for more when you're doing the laundry."

"I guess joking around with you got me in the mood. I need some real connection first. And sometimes laughing together is better than romance."

"Really?"

"I said _sometimes_. I still want to be flattered and wooed on a regular basis." She took a sip of wine and lowered her glass. "Oh! But speaking of chores…" She set her glass down on the table and disappeared through the sliding glass door.

He turned to watch her retreat, shook his head, shrugged, and began sipping his wine.

She returned three minutes later with a pen and a legal pad. When she sat in her chair, she drew a vertical line down the center of the page and began furiously scribbling. He glanced at the page with furrowed brow, but he couldn't see much in the dim glow of the porch light and the tiki candles. "What _are_ you doing?"

"We need to decide how to reallocate the chores now that I'll be working full time. Obviously I can't still keep handling 90% of the domestic duties. We're going to have to split it 50/50. Or at least 60/40."

"Huh." He sipped his wine and eyed her cautiously.

"So I'm writing down all the chores I currently do in one column, and all the chores you currently do in another column."

"That's a little anal retentive."

"This coming from a man who spends half his day doodling play diagrams? You _know_ things have to be mapped out. The unplanned is unsuccessful."

"I don't know about that. We didn't plan out that tumble we just enjoyed, and I'd say it was pretty successful."

"When I'm done with the lists, you can decided which of my chores you want to bring over to your column."

She finished up her scribbling and handed him the pad. He squinted to read in the semi-darkness. He angled the pad to catch the porch and torch light better. In his column, three chores were listed. In hers, there were about eighteen. "C'mon now, Tami. You can't just put yardwork on one line like that." He reached across the table and plucked the pen from her hand. He drew a line down from yardwork lower into his column. "That's a lot of chores. That's not one chore." He started listing them as he wrote them: "Mowing, trimming the edges, raking leaves, trimming the bushes…"

"Fine." She grabbed the pad back from him. "Give me that pen." She crossed out "dishes," flipped over the page (because her column was already full to the bottom of the page), drew another dividing line, and as she wrote said, "Wash dishes. Put dishes in dishwasher. Run dishwasher. Open dishwasher. Put away dishes."

"OPEN dishwasher? You can't count opening the dishwasher as a chore. Okay, you know what, count it as a chore. You can put that chore in MY column. I'll be happy to take that over for you." He grabbed the pad back, narrowly avoiding knocking over the glass of wine she'd set out on the table. The bottle was further back on the table and relatively safer from his grab. He took the pen. He drew a line from "open the dishwasher" to his column. Then he flipped the page back again and drew a line from "Handle the cars" to the bottom of his column. As he wrote, he said, "Handling the cars is more than one chore too. That means, number one, making sure your gas tank is filled, since you can't seem to manage that yourself."

"Well, I _can_ manage to do it myself." She turned and batted her eyelashes at him and, in a mock coquettish voice, said, "but can I help it if I prefer my man to insert that nozzle for me rather than just doing it on my lonesome?"

He let out a low, short laugh. "Double entendres won't help you win this debate."

"Double entendres? Ooooh…now that's better than ensnared. That's more than a three-cent word. That might even be an eight-cent word. Are you trying to show me your mental prowess again?"

"Did you know I went to college? I think we dated there." He began writing. "Now that chore you just called cars, that also includes getting the oil changes. And washing the cars. I also take the cars in for regular maintenance. Oh, and driving."

"Driving?"

"If we ever go anywhere in the car together, I always drive. Even if we're driving 300 miles. I drive the whole way."

"I thought that was because you wanted to."

"I'm putting that in my chore column."

"But taking out the trash you'll leave as is?" she asked. "You'll give me that's just one chore?"

"And I cook breakfast on weekends. Where's that?"

"Fine." She took the pad and added Saturday and Sunday breakfast to his list. "Then she took the line in her column that said "cook" and drew a line to the top margin. She didn't so much write - the letters were fast, furious, tiny, and run-together - as say aloud, for his benefit : "Monday dinner, Tuesday dinner, Wednesday dinner, Thursday dinner, Friday dinner, Saturday dinner, Sunday dinner, Saturday lunch, Sunday lunch, Monday breakfast, Tuesday – "

"Okay, enough already!"

She stopped her wild scribbling and looked at him. "So which of my chores do you want to start doing?"

He took the pad back and studied it. "I'll wash the dishes and empty the dishwasher," he said at last.

"Okay, what else?"

"Why can't Julie take on more of these chores? What does she do?"

"She packs her own lunch and she sets the table and she has a lot of homework, sugar. These advanced classes require a lot of homework."

"Yeah," Eric said, "which was just my point. Maybe if she took just two advanced classes instead of five, she'd have time to learn some practical life lessons. Like how to wash the dishes and empty the dishwasher."

"She already knows _how_ to do that, Eric. Just because she doesn't do it doesn't mean she doesn't know how."

"Or like how to do her own laundry. Why isn't she doing her own laundry anyway?"

"I don't know, hon. Why aren't you?"

"Because I bring in 100 percent of the income. And when you get this job, I'll _still_ be bringing in 75 percent."

Tami drew breath in through her teeth, and it resulted in a low hissing sound.

"I probably shouldn't have said that," he suggested without looking at her.

"Probably not," she agreed. "The only reason I _can't_ pull down a high salary at the moment is that I don't have fourteen years of work experience and seniority under my belt like you do. And you know _why_ I don't? Because I was out of the workforce for years and years so I could give birth to and raise _your_ child and so I could move regularly for _your_ career. And the only reason you are where you are in your career is because I've supported you at home for years."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll just draw a line from laundry here over into my column, how 'bout I?"

He turned hesitantly to look at her. Her eyes we're irritated, but then they twinkled suddenly. She laughed. "I'll be the mature one and admit we're getting ridiculous," she said.

"See, that's why I married you."

"Let's come back to this list later. Let's just enjoy our wine and the beautiful night."

He nodded. "Good idea." He set the pad on the table in front of the wine bottle. "Tell me about this new job. What's the thing you're most looking forward to?"

"Well I…"

They talked for an hour before tossing the empty bottle in the recycling and shuffling off to bed.


	7. No Sugar Coating This

**Chapter 7: No Sugar Coating This One**

Tami popped her head into Eric's cramped office. The windowless, closetless "study" fit a desk for the computer, a chair, a small bookcase, and a little stand that held the 12" TV/VCR combo Eric sometimes used to watch game film when the living room TV was being monopolized by his wife or daughter. A power strip overflowed with wires on the floor against the wall and the walls were covered with whiteboards. Tami didn't know how he could tolerate the closed-in space, but he'd get in that zone, she supposed, and he didn't really notice his surroundings.

"Who's chore is it to take pets to the vet?" she asked.

He stopped drawing on the whiteboard, capped his dry erase marker, and turned to her. "Is Bugsy throwing up again?" The pug had been sick on and off for the past six months.

"He's not eating or drinking. He's just lying there with his head on his front paws whimpering. He's been like that all morning. Your daughter is very upset."

Eric put down the marker and walked rapidly to the kitchen where the pug lay by his water dish, still whimpering. Julie was sitting at the table, eyes red. "It'll be okay, Julie, babe," Eric told her, kissing the top of her head. "Let me get my keys. You want to come with me?"

**/FNL/**

The prognosis was not good. Julie heard the word operation, heard the price (because her father had asked bluntly; of course he'd asked, of course that would be the first thing on his mind, wouldn't it?), heard how briefly it might extend Bugsy's life (six months to a year, at most), and guessed the alternative, which the vet would not say explicitly with her in the room. Then she glanced at her father, who refused to look at her. When they got home, her father ushered her mother into a corner of the living room, and her parents talked in low whispers. Julie went to her bedroom to throw herself on her bed and cry.

Ten minutes later, when her face was well smeared and her tissue box was half depleted, there was a knock on the door. When Julie didn't answer, her mother came in anyway, sat on the bed, and put a hand on her back. Julie rolled over and sat up, draping her feet over the edge of her bed. Her father stood in the open doorway, looking at the wall and not at her.

"Jules, sweetie," her mother said, in that soft voice she reserved for disappointing news, "we all love Bugsy very much, and I know you've had him since – "

Julie looked directly at her father, who was still studying the wall. "You're going to let them kill him, aren't you?"

Her father looked away from the wall and into her eyes. Julie saw, with some surprise, that his eyes were red and moist and his face discolored from what she could only imagine was the rough brushing away of tears. Her earlier anger at him began to dissolve. She had never seen her father cry and had not imagined that while she lay sobbing on the bed, he might be in that living room feeling the loss just as keenly.

"Julie, sweetheart," her mother said, "sometimes – "

"- Yes," her father said without looking away from her. "Yes, we are."

"Eric!"

"No, Tami. She asked a direct question. She deserves a direct answer. There's no sugar coating it, as much as we'd like to."

Julie sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap. She looked down at her own clasped hands and started crying again. Tami reached an arm around her and hugged her hard, but Julie blubbered, "I want daddy."

Her mother rose and crept softly from the room. The bed shifted as her dad sat down next to her. Julie turned and pressed her face into his shoulder as his protective arms surrounded her. She was grateful for his silence, for his refusal to try to comfort her with words that would only anger her, and she cried until there was nothing left.

**/FNL/**

The vet kept rare Sunday hours, so the Taylors skipped church and all went together. When they returned home, Julie walked into the kitchen, spied Bugsy's red and white bowls, and began crying again. Without a word, Tami picked the bowls up and disappeared with them, while Eric held his daughter. "I'll miss him too," he said.

"It isn't fair!"

"No, it isn't."

Tami was rustling in the kitchen. Julie pulled herself loose from her father's grasp. "I'm going to my room," she said. "Let me know when lunch is ready."

"Okay. I love you, Monkey Noodle."

Julie nodded and disappeared.

Eric went into the kitchen and saw that Tami was turning on the stove. She wiped her sleeve across her eyes. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She turned the burner down to low and leaned back against him. Eventually, she turned around and rested her head on his shoulder. "Poor Julie," she said.

He kissed her head. "I need to go to the Street's this evening. I've got a private session with Jason. Do you want me to cancel?"

"No. It's okay. Maybe Julie and I will watch a movie together."

"You sure?" When she murmured yes, he stroked her hair and said, "This is Julie's first real experience with death." Tami's parents, as well as Eric's mother, had all died before Julie was born. Eric's father was still alive, though Eric had a very limited relationship with him.

"I know," Tami said, pulling away.

"Think we should go in there and talk to her?"

"I think she needs some space. A little time to herself. I'll try to talk to her tonight if she wants to."

Eric nodded and leaned back against the counter top. "I remember when my first dog died. My dad insisted I shoot him."

Tami turned the burner off and came over and hugged him tight. "He made you _shoot_ the dog?"

"That's when we were living on the farm."

Eric's father, in one of his many failed business attempts, had bought a farm immediately after Eric's mom had died, when Eric was about ten. Mr. Taylor sold the farm at a major loss two years later, declared personal bankruptcy, and soon hit up his cousins for investment money. He then went into the hardware business, which he sold when Eric was sixteen. A week later he wiped out Eric's college fund to buy a donut franchise. Eric fortunately secured a football scholarship.

Eric's dad had succeeded with his sixth and last business, and he was now a rather well-off man in his retirement, but Eric had vowed to himself that he would never put his family through the kind of financial instability he had experienced in his own childhood. Eric's mother had sometimes worked two jobs to pay down his father's debts. _His_ wife, Eric resolved, would not have to work at all unless she wanted to. When Tami was eight months pregnant with Julie, she floated the idea of staying home. Eric didn't urge her in any particular direction. He listened to her talk out loud through the pros and cons and said he would support her decision either way, but he had been secretly pleased when she chose to stay home, mainly because he knew that must mean she believed she could always rely on him, which meant that he was _not_ his father.

Despite his resolve to be nothing like his father, Coach Taylor had found that coaching was fickle in its own way. He had to move his family more often than he wanted to grow his career, and he never knew if his contract would be renewed. So he did the best he could - he kept teaching while he coached, so that he'd at least always have that salary. He saved religiously for the unforeseen. He was certain to dig in his heels when Tami pushed him to buy things he feared they couldn't safely afford. Finances were sometimes a source of contention in their marriage, but Tami usually tolerated his fiscal conservatism and understood the motives that lay behind it.

"Why? Was the dog sick?" Tami asked.

Eric shook his head. "He was an egg sucker. Can't have an egg sucker on a farm."

"My God, that must have been awful for you."

"I took him out in the woods with my shotgun – "

" - You're father let you go in the woods with a gun by yourself at the age of ten?"

"I was eleven. He said it was my dog, my responsibility. "

Eric's dad had owned a small collection of firearms, but Eric had never been much interested in shooting. The only gun he now owned was a deer rifle, and he didn't go hunting that often – only when he felt he couldn't say no to bonding with the boosters. He had nothing personal against the sport. It just bored him – so much sitting and waiting around in tree stands, and then, if he did actually manage to get a deer, which he almost never did, they were eating venison sausage for weeks and months to come, when he much preferred beef and pork.

"Anyway," Eric said, "I couldn't do it. I just took him beyond the fields to the woods and kept walking him farther and farther into them and then shouted at him to go. He ran off, but he came back to the farm a few hours later, and my father chewed me out for being a coward and shot the dog himself."

"I'm so sorry, hon. You never told me that."

Eric put a hand deep into his hair. "I hated him for it. I didn't speak to him for weeks. Not one word. And now I've basically gone and done the same thing to my own daughter."

"You did nothing at all like that." She put a tender hand on his cheek. "The operation would have prolonged his life for _at most_ for a year. And it wouldn't have been much of a quality life. We did the right thing. And you were there for Julie every step of the way. Every step. "

He sighed and looked away, toward the fridge. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I love you," she said. "You're a good man. You're not your father." He turned to her and pressed his forehead against hers.

**/FNL /**

That evening, the Streets invited Eric to stay for dinner after his coaching session with Jason.

"How's Julie enjoying junior high?" Joanne Street asked him from across the dinner table.

"Seems to like it," Eric answered.

Jason's mother and father looked at each other and then at Coach Taylor. He didn't like the build up. It had to mean they were going to say something they didn't expect him to like.

"We're moving back to Dillon," Mitchell Street said.

Eric was relieved that that was it. "I know. At the end of the school year. Over the summer."

"No," Mitchell said. "Monday."

"Monday? As in _tomorrow_?" Coach Taylor put down his fork. He'd noticed things looked pretty sparse when he'd walked in the house. Fewer trinkets and books and photos than usual. And he'd seen the boxes in the corner of the living room, but he'd just assumed they were reorganizing or packing up non-essentials in anticipation of a summer move. He certainly hadn't thought - "But…you want Jason to finish out his season with the Tigers, don't you?"

Mitchell shook his head. "The season just started. There's only been one game. He needs to get on the Panthers _this_ season. I've finally found another decent job in Dillon. We can afford to move back home now."

Eric looked directly at Jason, who hadn't mentioned this.

"Besides," Joanne Street said, "Our old house in Dillon is vacant. The renters cleared out last week. We've already enrolled Jason in Dillon High. He and Mitchell are driving up after dinner tonight. I'll stay and finish packing."

Jason shot Coach Taylor an apologetic look. "They told me not to talk to you about it," he explained. "They – "

" - We wanted to tell you ourselves. Over dinner," Mitchell interrupted.

"I…" Eric shook his head. "You know I can't keep doing the private sessions with Jason when he goes over. He'll have his own QB coach with the Panthers, and with me being a coach for the Tigers…It was one thing when he was in Pee Wee, but it just wouldn't – "

Mitchell held up a hand to stop him. "We know. Which is why we hope you'll start trying to get over to Dillon _this_ season. If I understand right, you just got a letter of appointment from the Tigers with no mention of the duration of employment. You're basically an at-will employee. You can quit anytime you want."

It was true, but why did Mitchell know these details? Mitchell, unlike so many parents and boosters, wasn't involved in the politics of football, or at least he hadn't been. It was one of the things Eric liked about him. The man liked the game well enough, but he sat back and trusted the coaches with his son. Like any father, he wanted what was best for Jason, but he never stood at the sidelines making suggestions or getting in Eric's way. The Streets were a modest and unassuming family. Eric shook his head. The head coach of the Dillon Panthers had been wooing the Streets for over a year, no doubt with promises of future glory. That kind of courtship could change a family, he supposed.

"Why do you know any of the details of my employment?"

"I just asked," Mitchell said. "It's not top secret. It's part of bargaining agreement, so you're not ever stuck."

It was true Eric wasn't "stuck," but there was a flipside to the at-will arrangement: he could be fired anytime. He wanted to settle down somewhere, to become a head coach, to secure one of those coveted three-year contracts, or, the holy grail, a five-year contract. Job security. Something his father had never had. Not that they couldn't find a way to break your contract. Not that any coaching job was ever really secure. And not that he wouldn't find a way to break it himself if a better opportunity fell in his lap. He supposed he wasn't all that different from his father after all - always chasing the bigger fish. But at least he never gambled their life savings on the hunt.

"You could leave the Tigers and go over to the Panthers next week," Mitchell continued.

"But Dillon's not going to want to change horses in midstream," Eric reasoned. "They've got Alder as their QB coach, and they aren't just going to – "

"I hear the Panthers are fixin' to push out Coach Alder," Mitchell told him. "Now would be a good time for you to express your interest."

"Why would they be looking – "

Joanne glanced sharply at Mitchell who glanced at Jason. "It's okay, Dad," Jason said. "I already overheard you and mom talking about it. I already know."

"He had an affair with one of the player's moms."

Coach Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Oh," he said. "_Oh._"

"So, anyway," Mitchell told him, reaching across the table to refill Coach Taylor's water glass. "Put your feelers out."

Tami was not going to like this. She'd just gotten that job. Eric didn't think he should share this news with her tonight, not on top of the recent loss of Bugsy, not the night before she started her counseling position. He shouldn't share it tonight. Or next week for that matter. He'd already told Tami he was going to try to get over to Dillon next season anyway. So it wasn't as if he would be keeping the whole idea from her.

He'd have to put out those feelers quietly. Privately. There was no need to upset her if it didn't pan out. Though Jason would no doubt put in a good word for him, getting on with Dillon wasn't a sure thing by any means. So better not to upset her. Better not to rock the boat. The seas had been calm lately. There had been the wave of Bugsy's death, but that had just tossed them closer together. No need to stir up a current that might drag them slowly apart. If the change came, it would come as a sudden and dramatic swell, but at least then, after a good pounding, it would be over quickly, and they could struggle to the surface again.


	8. A Situation

When Eric got back home, there was a car in his driveway, lights on, engine running. He parked along the street rather than block it in. When he got out and walked up the driveway, he noticed Marcus standing on the stoop, apparently having just rung the doorbell. The boy held some kind of wrapped package in his hand. Tami opened the door, looked down at Marcus, and nodded to Eric over the boy's head. She stepped aside, inviting Marcus in, and shut the door behind him. It was eight-thirty. What was that kid doing coming over at eight-thirty?

By now Eric was at the car. He put a hand on the hood, bent down, and said, "Good evening, Mr. Thomas."

"Coach Taylor," Marcus's father said, extending his hand through the open window. Eric shook, and when the man drew back his hand, he turned off the car. "You can call me Martin."

"Eric," Eric said.

"Eric, why don't you come have a seat in the passenger's side? I'd like to speak to you for a minute."

Eric walked around the Buick and got in. He cranked down the window and rested an arm on the sill before he turned and looked at Martin.

"Marcus heard your daughter's dog died and just wanted to drop off a token of his sympathy. A book that made him feel better when his cat died."

"Cat?" Eric turned away and looked out the window so the expression on his face wouldn't be visible. When he thought he'd mastered it, he turned back. "Well that's…considerate of him." And a little forward. Giving his daughter gifts?

"We called first and checked with your wife. We didn't just drop by unannounced. I told him just to run up and drop it off. I didn't expect your wife to invite him inside."

"Well, she probably just wanted to let him give it to Julie personally. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute."

Martin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Eric, I'm concerned."

"About?"

"This relationship between my son and your daughter."

"Relationship? They're science partners."

"They spend more time working on this project than they need to, don't you think?"

"Uh…"

"And all the calls?"

"The calls? What calls?"

"Your daughter is calling over to the house at least two, sometimes three times a day."

"She _is_?" Eric shook his head and gritted his teeth.

Martin turned and looked at him. "You didn't know? I'd think a man like you, football coach and all, would have a better handle on his women folk."

Eric sat up straighter. "I have a perfectly steady handle on my…" He shook his head. "Wait. I don't…I don't put handles on my…they're not - "

"- I allowed Marcus to bring this book by because he was very adamant about it. Julie called him crying about the dog three times today."

Eric leaned forward and rubbed his face. When had she managed to do this?

"But," Martin continued. "I don't think it's a good idea for my son to be spending so much time with your daughter. I think you _know_ why."

Coach Taylor lowered his hands form his face and revealed his confused expression. "Because she's white?"

Martin swiveled his head and glared at him. "No! Because he's twelve, and at this age he really needs to be concentrating on his school work and maybe baseball, but certainly not on girls. Because he needs to get into a good college in six years, on an academic scholarship. Why? Do you have a problem with the fact that my son is black?"

"No, no, no…I…no!" Eric was shaking his head vigorously. "Look, I agree with you. Julie should be concentrating on her school work and her dance. She doesn't need to have boys in her head at all hours of the day at this age. I'll see to it that she doesn't keep calling him at home. But I suppose they do need to finish this science project."

"I've called the teacher and asked that Marcus be reassigned. This is the last time he'll be coming to your house. I understand you've had a loss, so I let him do this. But this is _it._"

"Mid-project? I agree they shouldn't spend too much time together, but they really have done a lot of work. To reassign them now doesn't make sense. It's not much longer, just – "

" - Well it doesn't matter how short the time is when a girl's that aggressive."

Eric's hand shot up to the roof of the car. He tapped angrily with his fingertips.

"My son won't see it this way, but I'm doing him a favor to get him another partner. He'll be lucky to be out of that situation."

"_Situation?_" Julie was a _situation_? It was one thing for Eric himself to caution his daughter, but for someone else to suggest - "You know what?" Coach Taylor ripped his hand down from the roof. "I'll tell you what. Your son's lucky my daughter takes _any_ interest in him at all. She's an intelligent, beautiful, sensitive girl, and yeah, she's got some initiative too, she's got some spunk, just like her mother, but you know what? Some guys are man enough not to be put off by that." He threw open the car door and stood. He noticed the front door opening and Marcus coming down the stairs toward the car.

Eric slammed the door, walked around the car, and intercepted Marcus on the front lawn. He slapped the boy on the back. The kid didn't feel quite as scrawny as he looked. "Son," he said, "I don't guess I'll be seeing much of you again. Good luck with the project and the baseball."

"Uh…yeah…thanks," Marcus scratched his head as Eric walked inside.

**/FNL/**

When Tami got under the covers she could feel, without even touching her husband, the tension in his muscles. She rolled onto her side and put a gentle hand on his cheek. "Feeling upset about Bugsy?" Tami knew that Eric's negative emotions frequently expressed themselves in irritation and anger. Just because he looked mad didn't mean he was mad. He could be feeling sad, worried, scared, or guilty, but it all came out the same.

"I'm upset about all sorts of things. I'm upset about Bugsy. I'm still upset we lost Friday. I'm upset about people thinking they can just judge my daughter. I'm upset my Dad shot my dog thirty years ago. I'm upset about Ja-" He waved his hand. "I'm just upset."

Tami propped herself up on her elbow. "Who's judging our daughter?"

He told her about his conversation with Martin Thomas. "Did you know she'd been calling Marcus three times a day?"

Tami shook her head. "No. That's a bit much. I figured she was calling him once a day. I'll talk to her about that."

"Still, he had some nerve. Acting like _his_ son needed to be rescued from _my_ daughter."

Tami's eyebrow rose as if of its own volition. "Well, well. Yesterday you were going wild over the idea of Julie spending _any_ time with that boy, and now you're ticked off his father doesn't want him to spend time with her."

"That's different."

Tami lay her head down on the pillow and crossed her hands over her stomach. "Did he really get their partners switched?"

"He seems to think so."

"They've done all that work."

"I know," he said.

"And Marcus _has_ been a good friend to her. It was nice of him to bring by that book. I don't think she needs to have their partnership broken up on top of losing Bugsy."

He rolled on his side and put a hand on her hip. "So how is she?"

"Sad, of course. She wouldn't say much to me. How are _you_ doing? I know you loved Bugsy too, and that it brought up all those bad memories from your childhood."

"I'm upset. But you know that already. You? How are you?"

"Upset." She saw he was starring off absently beyond her. "Is something else bothering you?" she asked. " You said you were upset about Jay something and then just stopped talking. Did you mean Jason?"

He blinked and re-met her eyes, but then he looked away. "Yeah. He's moving back to Dillon Monday."

Tami sat up. "Monday? Tomorrow?"

"Apparently they've been planning it for a while. They were just waiting for the tenants to clear out of their house. He's already enrolled, and he'll be a Panther tomorrow."

"I just saw Joanne in the grocery store yesterday. She didn't say a thing."

"Yeah, well…they were waiting to tell me together apparently."

Tami lay back down, turned, and draped a leg over him. "I'm so sorry, hon. I know you love working with that boy. But you knew he was moving this summer anyway. It's just a year sooner than you expected. I know you'll try to get an assistant coaching position over at Dillon next season. If you do, I'll be frustrated to have to quit my job after only a year, but, like you said, at least I'll have had one _**full**_ school year with those kids. "

Eric said nothing at all to this statement. His silence was a little strange, so she lifted her head to look at him. She traced his jawline with a fingertip. "You're tense." She kissed his chin. "Would a blowjob help?"

His laugh was surprised but it also housed some other emotion she couldn't quite place. "What did you just say?" he asked.

"Shelley tells me that when it comes to men, there's nothing a blowjob can't cure."

"Well I guess even Shelley sometimes has flashes of good sense."

"Speaking of which…when are we going to Dallas again? It's been almost a year since we've been there."

"She just came to see us in July."

"Yes, Eric, but _we_ haven't been _there_. What about winter break?"

"I don't want to spend Christmas in her apartment."

"We could get a hotel."

"That's expensive. Why doesn't she just come to us? It makes more sense."

"Because I want to go to Dallas. There are things to _do_ in Dallas. Things to _see_."

"Fine."

She smiled and began kissing her way down his chest. Half way he stopped her and urged her back up. Her confused eyes met his.

"I think I've got too much going on here," he pointed to his forehead. "I'm not really in the mood." He patted his chest. "Just settle in."

"Ohhkay." She lay her head down. This was an unexpected development.

"Sorry," he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"It's okay. I just thought it would help you feel better."

He hugged her tightly and then put a hand on her hair. He began to stroke the strands.

"I think this makes four times," she said.

"What?"

"Four times in fifteen years you've turned me down for sex."

"Well, every three to four years, you should get a taste of what it's like."

She laughed.

"Wait," he said. "This is only the third time. The first was that week I shot out my knee. I was in so much pain. I just couldn't think of anything else. The second was when we had that big fight and you were just trying to end the fight without having to say you were wrong. And I wasn't falling for that trick."

"No, there was another time before that. That day you worked eight hours, drove all the way to Macedonia, worked with that kid, and then drove all the way home the same day."

"Oh, yeah. I was exhausted. I was surprised you came onto me."

"Sorry. I was horny. That was lawn day." At the time, they lived in an apartment that was landscaped by a pair of brothers, two rather attractive and fit young men who were working their way through college and who often found that the heat required them to work shirtless.

"It's too bad the apartment complex didn't renew that mower's contract. I never saw so much action as I saw that year."

She raised her head and kissed him. "Well, I like watching you mow the lawn too."

"Not as much as you liked watching them."

"I like making love to you a lot more, though."

"_What?"_ he exclaimed in mock anger. "More than with them? How would you know that?"

She laughed and covered her mouth. "I did _not_ mean that the way it sounded."

He smiled sardonically. "How _did_ you mean it?"

"I mean that when it comes to _real_ life, I want a man like you." She rested her head again on his chest. "Not _like_ you. _You_ specifically." She felt his chest heave with his sigh. His sighs could speak volumes. This one told her he felt a little guilty, a little undeserving. She raised her head and sought out his eyes with her own. She felt a renewed sense that there was something he wasn't telling her. "What else is bothering you?"

"Nothing. It's just all the Bugsy stuff. And Jason moving so suddenly. And that Marcus kid's dad saying Julie was a _situation_. Isn't that enough?"

She kissed his chest. "Yeah," she said, not quite believing him. "It's more than enough."


	9. It's Not Porn

**Chapter 9: It's Not Porn**

_Beep beep beep._ The sound was right in Eric's ear. He'd slept with his watch on and set it's alarm to go off early so that he could get up and make Tami breakfast on her first day of work. Quickly, before the alarm could wake her, he stabbed the button. He felt himself drifting off to sleep and forced himself awake. He slid out of the bed, feet first, stood, stretched, yawned, and scratched. He didn't look at the bed but pulled on his pants over his boxers and walked straight to the kitchen, where he found Tami standing, showered, dolled up, and dressed in a knee-length skirt and pale silk blouse. She was holding a cup of coffee, and an empty plate, with the crumbs of an English muffin, sat on the counter by the sink.

He blinked. "What are you doing up?" he asked. "I was going to make you coffee. I was going to make breakfast for your first day."

She was staring absently at the refrigerator and turned. She smiled slightly. "That's sweet, hon. I appreciate the support. Sorry to ruin the surprise. It's just…I've been up since four. Figured I might as well get ready."

"Nervous?" he asked and came and slid his arms around her waist and leaned in to kiss her. She pulled away and set her coffee cup on the counter.

"Don't mess up my hair," she said, and then began smoothing her skirt.

"Okay, then. The hair's important on the first day, I guess. The hair communicates."

"Your hair certainly communicates," she said, and looked at the disordered, tussled, sleepy strands leaning this way and that at the front top of his head, and laughed.

"Yeah?" he asked. "What's it say?"

"All sorts of things. Right now it says, 'I'm dead tired but I dragged myself out of bed to earn points with my wife and somehow I'm still at zero, and I can't even get a good morning kiss. Why is my world so unjust?'"

Eric put a hand in his hair and grabbed a chunk. He pulled it left and right. "What's it saying now?" he asked.

"Ow. Leave me alone." Smiling, she stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Thanks for the thought, really. But I ate already. Dry English muffin and a strawberry."

"One strawberry?"

"Didn't think I could stomach anymore."

"You'll do great, Tami. You're the most competent woman I know."

She had reclaimed her coffee cup from the counter and the red ceramic rim had just reached her chin when it froze in place. "Now why would you say the most component _woman_ you know and not just the most competent _person_ you know?"

Eric ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"Now your hair is saying, 'Seriously, Tami? Seriously? Don't I _ever_ get a break?'"

"Don't I?"

She walked over and smacked him on the butt. "More than you deserve." And then she disappeared from the kitchen.

"What was that for?" he called from the empty kitchen, but it was Julie who came in and not Tami.

"What was what for?" Julie asked.

"Your mother just spanked me for no reason."

"Ewwwww….TMI."

"I'm making breakfast. Your mom already ate, but I'll make it for us. What do you want?"

"Mom said she got some tofu bacon."

"_Tofu_ bacon? You can't qualify the word bacon with a word like tofu. That's an oxymoron."

"Nice vocabulary, Dad," she said, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out something that did look reasonably like bacon.

He took it from her hand. "You know what? If my little girl wants tofu bacon this morning, then she'll get tofu bacon this morning."

He brought it over and lay it on the counter top next to the stove and turned on the gas burner. It popped popped and flamed. He turned it down and set the pan on flame.

"_Who_ are _you_?" Julie asked.

He lay the strips of bacon in the pan. "More importantly, _how_ are _you_?" He turned and looked at her. The bacon made a sizzling sound. "Seriously, Jules, how are you feeling? You hanging in there?"

Julie slid her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and nodded.

"You and your momma have a good talk last night?"

"Not really. We just watched a movie. I'd rather talk to you about it."

"_It_ being Bugsy?" he asked.

"Yeah. Do you think we could have like…I know it sounds totally silly – "

"Family memorial service?"

"Yeah."

"I think that would be a good idea," he said. He looked beyond Julie and saw Tami had re-entered the kitchen and overheard some of their conversation. She looked…he didn't know…hurt?

"I'm going to get my backpack ready," Julie said and ducked from the kitchen.

"I don't know why she'd rather talk to you than to me," Tami said. "I'm supposed to be a counselor. Starting today. And my own daughter doesn't even want to talk to me. Why is that?"

Eric shrugged.

"Seriously, Eric, why is that?"

Eric was holding a spatula in his hand and he raised it and pointed to his hair with it. Then he lowered the spatula and flipped the bacon.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tami asked.

"I assumed my hair would answer your question. It didn't?"

**/FNL/**

Coach Taylor yelled at his quarterback to re-run the play he'd just screwed up. He was working with Mark Jacobson now that Jason had gone off to the Panthers. The second string quarterback was a pale shadow of Jason Street. There was no way Eric was going to have him up to scratch by Friday's game. They were going to be here late this evening.

Eric walked away from the field and called Tami on his cell. "Are you home yet?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I just left. I'm heading for the car. Aren't you going to ask me how my first day went?"

"How'd it go?"

"Great." There was silence, then, "A little boring actually. I didn't get to see any kids one-on-one today. It was a kind of orientation."

Coach Shannon, another one of the assistant coaches, came up to him and held up five fingers and pointed to the field. Eric nodded.

"But I think it's going to be good," Tami continued. "It'll be fun working with so many kids of different ages. And maybe I can do some good. The extreme academic pressure that comes from going to a small, competitive private school like this…I think that's one of the main things I'll be dealing with."

"Well, there's some extreme academic pressure in Julie's advanced classes in public school."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and then Tami asked, "Are we having this argument again?"

"No."

"Julie can handle it. She's smart, and she's the type who needs to be challenged. And we didn't force her to take any of those classes. She chose them."

"She chose two of them. She was on the fence about the other three. You persuaded her, Tami."

"I thought you said we weren't having this argument again."

"Right. Listen, I gotta go. I just wanted to tell you I'm going to be late this evening."

"Why?" she asked.

"I've got to do some extra work with Mark."

He also had to get his resume together. Mitchell Street had given him the address of the head coach over at Dillon and had told him the man was expecting his e-mail. Eric didn't want to do it on the office computer, because he didn't want anyone on the Tigers to find out he was testing the waters over at Dillon. He didn't want to do it at home either, because he didn't want Tami to get upset about the possibility of having to quit her job without putting in a full year, not until he knew whether or not he got the job. Maybe he'd stop by the library on the way home from practice and do it there.

Eric was now seeing two fingers from Coach Shannon and so said goodbye to his wife.

**/FNL/**

The library apparently closed at five on Mondays—budget cuts meant erratic hours-so Eric just went on home at 7:30, reheated his dinner plate, and wolfed down the food before secluding himself in his study. The door didn't have a functioning lock, but Tami usually left him alone when he was in there working with the door closed.

He was now attempting to attach his resume to an e-mail. He was scouring the menu and saw the icon of a paper clip. Was that it? He didn't send attachments very often, and he didn't open them. The only person who sent him attachments was Buddy Garrity, who e-mailed him some kind of photo joke at least three times a week. Eric always deleted them without responding. He'd met Buddy when the Taylors lived in Dillon years ago. Buddy had been on the Dillon Panthers in his youth, but he'd also played for the junior high team for which Eric was briefly an assistant coach, and sometimes Buddy liked to stop by the field to give unsolicited pep talks and reminisce.

While working at the junior high in Dillon, Eric had simultaneously coached Jason Street in Pee Wee. Then the Streets had moved to Midland, and the Taylors had moved to Lamesa, before moving to Midland, specifically so Eric could coach Jason on the Tigers. But now Street was gone, and Eric was left with a losing team, a boss he could barely tolerate, and a quarterback who didn't have even a quarter of the promise of Jason.

He clicked the paper clip, and a window to his folders opened. He poked around. Where had he saved the damn resume? He'd just found the file and clicked on it when the door suddenly opened. Hastily, he reached up and turned off the monitor.

Tami shook her head as she entered. "I swear, hon, I don't know why you need that when you've got this – " She stretched her arms up in the air and did a sexy little dance until she reached the bookshelf, " - right here at home."

"What?" he asked.

She was bending over to grab a book from the bottom shelf of the bookcase, and she wiggled her butt at him as she did so.

"What?" he repeated. Had she seen the e-mail? Suddenly it dawned on him. "Oh, no," he said waving his hand in protest, "I wasn't looking at porn."

"Sure you weren't," she said, standing up straight and tucking the book she'd come to get under her arm. "You just didn't want me to see how well you were doing at solitaire." She laughed. "I didn't even _mean_ that to be a double entendre. But now that I've got the analogy, I guess since you're so _good_ at solitaire, you don't need me to play cards with you any time soon." She smacked him lightly on the head with her paperback as she walked to the door.

"I wasn't looking at porn!" he insisted again as she retreated through the doorway.

**/FNL/**

Eric heard sniffling later that night when he walked by Julie's room. He knocked. There were sounds of scurrying and then, "What?"

"Can I come in?"

"Just a minute."

He opened the door. It was clear she'd been crying. She'd tried to shove the wire wastepaper basket full of tissues behind the desk, but he could still see it. He sat down on her bed. "Bugsy?" he asked. She shook her head. "What then?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"You don't want to hear about it."

"Why would you say that?" he asked. "You think I don't care when my daughter is crying?"

She rolled her eyes. "No," she said, rubbing her reddened nose. "I just…it's Marcus. He said he can't be my partner anymore. He got assigned to someone else. And now I have to work with Karen Washington, because she was the odd one out, the only one who didn't have a partner."

"So you have to start all over?"

"No. We're still doing the helmet thing. She didn't start on her project. Because she's a total procrastinator. Marcus has to do whatever project his new partner started on."

"So you're not losing anything. That's good."

"Yeah," she said. Crossing her arms over her chest. "Not losing _anything_. Right."

"You and Marcus can still talk in school. Julie, you shouldn't be this focused on – "

"I knew you'd say that. Can you just go, please?"

"A'ight." He stood up. "Love you."

She grunted.

When Eric got to his and Tami's bedroom, he said, "I think our baby girl needs her mother right now." Tami looked up from the book she was reading, her brow furrowed. "Marcus," Eric explained. "She found out today they aren't partners anymore."

Tami nodded and disappeared from the room. When she returned twenty minutes later, he asked how it had gone. "She's upset," Tami said, crawling under the covers. "Understandably. She'll get over it. They can still talk between classes and at lunch. It's not the end of the world. Frankly – not that I told her this – but it's probably for the best that they spend less time together. She was getting a little too intense. I told her she can call him twice a week, but she's got to quit this twice a day stuff."

He nodded. "How are we going to police that?"

"We're not. We're going to trust her. And she's going to disobey us. And we're going to pretend we don't know."

"That doesn't sound like a good precedent, Tami."

She shrugged. "It's not a big deal. The crush will burn itself out eventually. Faster if we don't try to interfere than if we do."

"Then why tell her to stop calling so much in the first place?"

"So she knows I care."

He shook his head. "I don't understand you sometimes."

"Good. A girl needs to maintain a little mystery," she said as she rolled over into her sleep position.


	10. The Storm

**Chapter 10: The Storm **

Eric was in his home office again the next evening reading an e-mail from the head coach over at Dillon when the door opened abruptly. His hand flew to the monitor, and he pushed the button. The screen flashed and went black.

Tami stood with her hands on her hips. "Seriously, Eric? I'm not going to make a fuss if it's every now and then, but this is two nights in a row."

"I wasn't looking at porn."

"You have to keep that to a minimum. I don't know if you realize this, but it's a turn off for me to think – "

"- I _wasn't_ looking at porn! But talk about double standards from the landscaping aficionado!"

She leveled a finger at him. "They never landscaped two days in a row and I didn't pretend not to be looking out the window."

"You didn't have to pretend to not be looking out the window," he said, "because I didn't flip out about it."

"You didn't flip out about it because you were at work. I didn't look out the window on weekends when you were just a room away!"

"Oh, hell yes you did!"

"I did not!" She insisted. "And even if I did, I brought all my energy to you. You benefitted."

"Well I'm more than happy to bring my energy to you, babe. You're the one who shuts me out when you think I've been – "

"Because – okay, I know it seems like a double standard. I know it sounds illogical. But there's a lot of emotional stuff tied up in sex for me. I didn't code the DNA. You just have to deal with the package as it comes to you. And I get turned off when I'm thinking of you looking at – "

"Really, Tami, I'm _not_ looking at porn."

She sighed and went to return a book to the bookcase. She came and stood behind him and patted his shoulder. "I just want to be the center of your world. Is that too much to ask?"

"You _are_ the center of my world." He turned and looked at her. "Don't you believe that?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. When it's not football season."

**/FNL/**

Eric was walking from the locker room after practice when his cell phone rang. They were not ready for Friday's game, the second game of the season. Even if Coach Erickson did finally listen to Eric and run the plays he suggested, they'd still lose. They'd lose by less, but they'd lose. Coach Taylor tossed his duffle bag into the back of the pick-up. It was time for a new truck. This thing was old and worn and beat up. He wanted a Suburban. He just didn't want to finance it. He was waiting until he had enough in savings to pay cash.

"Yes, sir," he was saying into his cell phone as he got in the cab. He had one leg still half out the door as he put his keys in the ignition. "I understand. Yes, I'm very interested." He pulled his leg in. "Yes, I got your e-mail." He'd been reading it when Tami had walked into the study last night. When she'd left, he'd finished reading it. Then he'd read it again. And again. "Those are definitely fair terms. I'll have to discuss it with my wife, of course." He was in no hurry to do that. He had a plan to be extra nice to her for a few days before he broached the subject. He'd do a lot around the house, bring her surprise flowers, soften her, and then break the news.

"When do you need my answer?" Eric asked as he closed the door. "_Tomorrow?_" He stared straight ahead through the dirt-speckled windshield. "Why so soon? When would I be starting?" He put the keys in the ignition. "On Monday_? _You mean, _this_ coming Monday?"

**/FNL/**

Julie was asleep, or at least in her room with the lights out, when Eric joined Tami in their bedroom. He stood at the foot of the queen-sized bed where Tami sat reviewing a file she'd brought home from school. His hands were tented together and pressed against his lips. "Can you put that down a sec?" There hadn't been any time to butter her up. He had stopped off at the grocery store on the way home and picked up some flowers, but that was it. He was just going to have to jump in the water all at once and hope it didn't get too stirred up.

She closed the folder and set it on the night stand.

He moved his hands out slightly from his lips. "I have some really, really, really good news," he bent his hands forward in her direction with each really. Take the optimistic approach, he told himself. It's all in the framing. He saw her face brighten. "You and I have been working really hard, baby. You and I have worked so hard to get to this point. You know it's always been my dream to coach for a top Texas high school, and you know the Panthers are a top team."

"Yeaaaah…" Her voice was curious, skeptical, and wary.

"Well, it just so happens the Panthers are in need of a QB coach. Right now. They're firing the other one after this Friday's game because he had an affair with one of the player's moms and it's stirred up all kinds of tension."

"And you want to apply?"

"Well, I already sent over my resume. And they want me. And it's a two-year contract." Her face was being diffused with gradual understanding and growing disbelief as he spoke. "And it pays more than I'm making here. And it's a better school. And Jason's there now. And it's the stepping stone we've talked about for years."

"You _already_ applied?"

"I didn't apply, exactly. I sent my resume over in case the rumors about Coach Alder – "

"- You _applied_. You applied _without_ telling me!"

So much for the optimistic approach, he thought. Time to rip the rest of the bandaid off, and fast: "They want me to start Monday."

"_This_ Monday?"

"I realize it's sudden."

Tami shook her head. "I _just_ started my new job on Monday."

"I know. I'm sorry about that. But maybe you can find a job in Dillon, after we're good and settled."

"Julie _just_ started junior high here."

"Dillon has two decent junior highs." He'd taught and been an assistant coach at one of them.

"Our lease on this house isn't up until January 1st!" she insisted.

"I've thought of that. Here's what I'm thinking. The renters in our old house in Dillon have gone month-to-month." They'd been renting out the place for years, knowing that Eric hoped to return and coach the Panthers one day. "We give them warning to be out by December, and that gives them a little over two months to find a new place. We can move winter break."

"Dillon's a three hour drive from here! You can't commute six hours a day!"

"No, but I've talked to the Streets, and they've very generously offered me the use of their guest bedroom for the rest of the season. I'd be home weekends. I'll leave at 5 in the morning on Mondays to go to Dillon, be back late Friday night after the games. You and Julie could stay here and pack up the house. Let Julie finish out the semester here, start at Dillon Junior High after the Christmas break."

"Oh, well you've got it all planned out don't you!" she shouted.

He lowered his hands as though trying to dampen her volume. "I just didn't want this move to be stressful for – "

" - You've already told the Streets you got the job? _Before_ you told me? You've _already_ arranged housing?"

"I – "

She virtually leapt from the bed. "You applied without telling me you applied? You made plans without discussing them with me?"

"I didn't want to worry you, babe. If I didn't get the job, I didn't want you to get worked up for nothing.

"You didn't even discuss it with me! You kept this all from me! You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie!"

"You lied! You weren't looking at porn, you were sending off your resume, weren't you?"

"Well, aren't you glad that's what I was doing? I didn't lie! I _told_ you I wasn't looking at porn."

"I don't care about that! I'd much rather you were doing that than lying to me!"

"Shhh, shhh!" He said, stepping forward and putting a finger to her mouth. She swatted his hand away. "_Julie!" _he reminded her. "Shhh!"

"You gave me no say in this."

"We've planned for this, Tami. Maybe not right _now_, but we've planned for it together. It's good for my career. It's good for our family. You've worked hard to support me, babe, and this is the first step on the road to the payoff. Do you want me to turn down this job? I haven't accepted it yet. I just got the offer today. That's why I'm talking to you. You want me to turn it down? Is that what you want?"

"No. Of course not. The Panthers are a great team, and Jason is going to make them greater. I know how long you've wanted this. I know it's good for you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is you applied without consulting me! You snuck around behind my back! And you could have waited until next season, so I could at least work a full school year!"

"I couldn't have waited until next season. The opening is _now_. It's now or never."

"You could have talked to me about it at least! I finally get a job and you – you – you – you don't even care!" Her hair was bouncing now. "It's nothing to you! It's my _hobby_ as far as you're concerned. That I can just drop! Anytime you need me to!"

"Tami –"

She grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it at him. He caught it.

"Go sleep on the couch," she said. "I can't talk about this right now."

"Tami – "

She held up a finger and waved it in his face. "Go. Because if you don't, I'm going to say some things I seriously regret."

He let out a shaky sigh and took two steps backwards. He turned and walked to the door. His hand on the knob, he turned his head back and said, "You know, I was just trying to protect you from unnecessary worry by not telling you before I knew for sure. Because I _do_ know what this job means to you and I _did_ know it would upset you if you had to leave it. I didn't want you to be anxious and upset until you had to be. I did it because I care about you. But you've always got to assign the worst possible motives to me, don't you?"

"You know why you didn't tell me, Eric? Why you didn't come to me, face to face, and tell me you wanted to apply for this opening now? Because you wanted to put off the confrontation as long as you could. Because you're a coward."

He bit down tightly on his tongue. He could feel it almost beginning to bleed. He stepped out of the bedroom. "I guess I didn't leave soon enough," he said and slammed the door.


	11. Flight

**Chapter 11: Flight**

Tami shook Eric awake. He grunted and jerked and sat straight up on the couch. "I'm sorry I called you a coward last night," she said. "That was harsh. Especially since you recently told me your father called you that when you wouldn't shoot your dog. I wasn't even thinking of that. I remembered it last night. I'm sorry. It was harsh."

He rubbed his eyes. "You're not entirely wrong. I _was_ trying to avoid confrontation. I guess that was stupid. I just delayed it and made it bigger."

"That's for damn sure."

He ran a hand through his already wildly disheveled hair. "I have to give them my answer this morning."

She sighed heavily. "Then tell them yes. Do what you planned – leave 5 AM on Monday."

"Babe, I'm sorry. I honestly didn't expect it to be this sudden."

"Come home Friday nights after the games," she continued, ignoring his apology. He was apologizing for the wrong thing, as far as she was concerned. "It'll be a late drive - you won't get home until 1 AM on Saturdays, but you're always keyed up after a game anyway. I'll give my notice in November. I'll start packing up the house bit by bit, and we'll move for good during winter break, like you said."

"So are we okay?"

"No, Eric, we're not okay. It's not that simple! You can't treat me like this. I'm supposed to be an equal partner in this marriage. You should have told me about this sudden opening. You should have come to me and discussed it _before_ you applied. You _certainly_ should have discussed it with me before you asked the Streets if you could live with them. "

"I didn't ask them. I just called to thank Jason for putting in a good word for me, and Mitchell came on and – "

"- You've got ten minutes before Julie's alarm goes off." She grabbed the two empty beer bottles he'd left on the coffee table. "You should go back to the bedroom before she gets up. I don't want her to know we're fighting."

"Exactly," Eric said. "You're not telling her because you don't want her to be anxious and worry about it when it could turn out to be nothing. So you're keeping it from her rather than working her up. Because you love her. Right?"

Tami put a hand on one of her hips. She was already dressed for work. "Yes. Because that's what you do when you want to protect a _child_, Eric. A _child_. Which is apparently how you think of me."

She strutted from the room. In the kitchen, the beer bottles banged against the side of the recycling bin and clattered to the bottom.

**/FNL/**

Julie sat gazing out the window of the airplane, her pink headphones firmly planted around her ears. Tami had hoped the plane ride would give them a chance for a heart to heart about the impending move, but Julie had tuned her out even before take-off, so Tami hadn't told her yet. She was waiting for the proper moment. There was no avoiding the disappointment, but she could choose the best moment to soften it. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized a confined space like this was a poor forum. Yes, it would mean Julie couldn't react too loudly, and she couldn't storm off, but it probably wouldn't be a real conversation either.

Julie hadn't talked much at the airport. She wasn't being sullen or intentionally rude, she just didn't seem to have much to say to her mother these days. The extent of their conversation had been this –

"Why isn't Dad coming with us?"

"Because he's got a game. And he and your Aunt Shelley don't always get along fantastically."

"Why didn't you tell me we were going sooner?" Julie had been asking to visit her aunt for weeks, ever since Shelley had last been in Midland.

"Because I wanted to surprise you."

Tami hadn't planned on this impromptu visit to her sister's, but she needed some time away from Eric to calm down. She'd already said one thing she regretted. She didn't want to say another. So during her lunch break at work, she'd secured two round-trip tickets to Dallas. Eric would probably blow a gasket when he found how much she had spent on last minute airfare, but she could remind him that she had a job to pay for it – at least for a little awhile.

She'd called him in the afternoon to tell him they were going, but she could barely hear him over the chanting of the players at practice, and he'd shouted, "I'll call you back later!" So she'd left a note instead. It would serve him right anyway. He could get a small taste of what it was like to have your spouse do something without discussing it with you first. Not that there was any comparison.

It wasn't that she didn't understand how important this job was to him. They'd mapped out his career together, but the disappointment would have been milder if he had just come to her and told her he was applying. It wouldn't have hit her so fast, and so hard, like a slap in the face, if he had just let her know. At least, she imagined it wouldn't have.

Tami settled her head back against the airplane seat and closed her eyes.

**/FNL/**

"Julie, honey," Shelley said as she led her niece into her apartment. "I have some tops I think would fit you. You're getting so tall. They're almost new, but I can't wear them anymore, since I dyed my hair." She touched her platinum blonde curls. When they'd last seen her, her hair had been reddish brown. Before that, it was jet black. This was closer to her childhood color. "They just don't match now. Why don't you go through them?"

When Julie was safely in the bedroom, Shelley grabbed Tami by her hand and drew her into the kitchen. "Talk," she ordered before grabbing two wine glasses and slapping them down on the counter. "It'll take Julie fifteen minutes to try those blouses on, so talk fast." Shelley pulled an already loose cork out of a partially empty wine bottle and poured. "You sounded so pissed off on the phone when you called me to pick you up from the airport. I mean, to just grab Julie and fly to Dallas to see me like this…and on a game night…Eric must have really screwed up. What did he do?" Shelley set the bottle down and pushed the glass over to Tami. "Sweetie," she said, her voice an almost a whisper, low and concerned but, Tami thought, maybe just a little bit smug, "Did he cheat on you?"

"No!"

Shelley stepped back from her sister. "Okay. You don't have shout. What then? Oh," She tilted her head in that exaggeratedly sympathetic way of hers. "Did he gamble away your savings?"

Shelley was enjoying this, Tami realized. Shelley had told her years and years ago that she was a fool to break up with Mo for Eric, that Mo was a born star and Eric a mere "plodder alonger," but Tami had said she'd rather be loved, and loved deeply, than latched to a shooting star that would just jerk her around. She thought Shelley had been a little bit jealous of her happiness and of the fact that Eric treated Tami so well (_most_ of the time), while Shelley's boyfriends kept treating her so poorly.

"No," Tami insisted between clenched teeth. "That's the _last_ thing Eric would ever do." Unless cheating on her was the last thing he would ever do. It was a close call.

"He didn't hit you, did he?" Shelley took no secret delight in that question. Her eyes were wide and alarmed.

"No! Of course not."

Shelley shook her head and put a hand around the stem of her wine glass. "Then what? What on earth did he do that made you so mad you just had to get away from him for a couple of days?"

"He applied for a job without discussing it with me first."

"And?"

"And…he didn't discuss it with me! It was for a job that starts _right away_. He's starting this _Monday!_ And he didn't discuss it with me first."

Shelley brought her wine glass to her lips. She sipped it. When she'd lowered it again to the counter, she said, "I don't understand. Did you tell him not to take the job and he took it anyway?"

"No. I told him to take the job because I know it's good for his career and it's always been part of our long-term plan. I just didn't see it coming right _now_."

"So what's the problem?"

"Well, I wanted him to discuss it with me _before_ he applied."

Shelley's brow furrowed in confusion. "So you could tell him to go ahead and apply for it?"

"So we could discuss it!"

"Tami, girl, I don't understand you sometimes."

"Why aren't you on my side here? You don't even _like_ Eric."

"I don't _dislike_ him. I just don't get what you see him. I mean, other than that – okay - I guess he _is_ good-looking. And he's actually better looking _now_ than he was in high school or college." Shelley forced a frown. "He was kind of pimply back then."

"Well he's _very_ good-looking now. _Extremely_ good-looking."

"I suppose, if you like stocky guys."

"I like masculine men, yes, Shelley. I much prefer them to guys like the last one you dated, who was so skinny you could knock him over with a feather."

"That was three guys ago. And yeah, he was a little skinny even for me. But he had that gorgeous hair and he was fantastic in bed."

Tami shook her head.

"Okay," Shelley conceded, "I'll give you that Eric is good-looking _now_. And he loves you and thinks the world of you. I'll give him that too. But he's such a stick in the mud. And so conventional. And so _not_ fun. And so completely unaware of anything that's happening outside of the world of football."

"None of that's true. Well, maybe the conventional part, but I don't mind that. When you're married and have a kid you realize that maybe conventional's not so bad. _I'm_ conventional by _your_ standards. And, yes, sure, he can be a little single-minded sometimes. But he's not uneducated. We have discussions about all sorts of things other than football."

"Like what?"

"He's intelligent and thoughtful, really, and he can be funny."

"Funny? Eric? This is Eric's reaction to a joke." Shelley made a stern face, and then she glanced at her watch. She tapped it and looked annoyed. Then she made a wrap it up motion with her hand.

"It is _not_. He can _too_ be funny. He likes to joke around. With _me_, anyway."

"Who's on who's side now?" Shelley asked with a smile.

"Were you _trying_ to make me list his virtues?"

Shelley leaned on the counter. "I'm glad you're here, whatever the reason. I've missed you. For a while there, given the way you sounded on the phone, I thought Eric had gone and done something totally out of character. But now that I know it's just the same old same old, I know you and he are going to get over your little tiff sometime in the next week, so I don't see any point in getting all worked up on your behalf."

From behind Shelley, the wall phone rung. She took it off the hook and said hello. "Well hell-o, Air-Ic," she said loudly and winked at Tami. "Tam-i? You want to know when I last heard from Tam-i?"

Tami shook her head.

"Well, Air-ic, I'll have to think…Let me see…_Woah!_ Eric, woah, calm down!" Shelley's brow furrowed as she listened. "Eric, Eric, no, it's okay. Tami's here. Julie's here." Tami mouthed that she didn't want to talk to him right now. Shelley put her hand over the mouthpiece. "You _have_ to talk to him. He sounds scared."

"He should be scared."

"No, Tami. He sounds _really_ scared." Shelley extended the phone out to her sister.


	12. A Few Too Many

**Chapter 12: A Few Too Many**

Tami took the phone cautiously and said, "Hello?" Eric sounded like he did after he just got back from a run. "Eric?"

His breathing leveled and he burst into "What the hell, Tami? What the hell! How could you do that? Just go off like and not answer your phone? And take Jules with you? I didn't know where the hell you were!"

"I-"

"-I came home after school and your car was here" – they'd taken a cab to the airport – "but you were nowhere to be found! Julie was nowhere! So I thought maybe you'd gone for a walk, but when you weren't home in the next hour, I went walking looking for you. When I couldn't find you, I called your cell phone. I called five times over the next hour. You never answered! I called your school, I called Julie's school, I got in my truck and I drove all the hell over the god damn town looking for you! I didn't know what the hell had happened. I didn't know what to think! I was about to call the police."

"Eric, I left you a note! I left you a note telling you we were flying to see Shelley."

"There wasn't any note. I looked on the fridge! I looked on the white boards. I looked on the kitchen counters. I looked on - "

" - I left it on the kitchen table."

"I looked on the kitchen table." She could hear him stomping around. "I looked there. I looked – oh. _Oh._ It must have got blown onto the chair somehow. Oh. I see."

"I wouldn't just leave without telling you! I just need a little space and time to cool down."

"Oh. You're a'ight though? You're safe? Julie's safe?"

"Perfectly safe," she reassured him.

"So…you're coming home Sunday?"

"Yes."

"You're not…you're not thinking of leaving me and staying with Shelley?"

"Good God no, Eric! How could you think that?"

"I didn't know _what_ to think, Tami. I didn't know if y'all had been abducted…if you got hit by a car…if you were lying dead in a ditch…if you were so pissed you'd decided to leave me. I didn't know. This isn't like you."

"I'm sorry, hon. I'm sorry you went through that. I left you the note. I _did_ leave you a note."

"I see that now. But even with the note this isn't like you."

"Don't you need to get to your game? Your last game with the Tigers?" She glanced at her watch. "Isn't kick off in four minutes?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I better get going."

"Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, sugar. I'm sorry I scared you."

"I love you too."

"I'm still mad at you though."

"I know. Have fun with your sister."

Just after Tami hung up the phone, Julie came into the kitchen wearing a light pink, silk blouse. It was a little long in the sleeves, and she'd rolled them up. "This is the only one that worked for me," she said. "You sure you don't mind, Aunt Shelley?"

"Of course not. You look gorgeous!"

Just then, the door opened, and there drifted into the kitchen the voice of a man loudly singing, "The hills are alive with the sound of muuuuuuusic!" Tami looked curiously through the open bar area of the kitchen to the gray haired man who danced in a black suit and solid red tie through the living room. He stopped suddenly and stared at Julie and Tami. "Oh," he said. "I didn't know you were having guests."

"Neither did I," said Shelley. "It was a last minute surprise. Don't worry. They're both staying in my room, and I'm sleeping on the couch tonight. Jay, this is my sister Tami and my niece Julie."

He came over into the now crowded kitchen and took Tami's hand. "Divine," he said, lifting it lightly as though he planned to kiss it, but he didn't. "Absolutely divine." He looked at her wedding and engagement rings. "And someone's snatched you up! Of course!" He turned and smiled at Julie.

"Hey, Jay," Shelley said. "Do you think you can get us in to the Bistro? I know it's really hard to get a reservation this late in the evening, but you know the maître de." She winked at him. "I bet he'd do a faaaavor for you."

Jay sighed and rolled his eyes. "Very well." He held up a stern finger. "But this is the last chip I'm cashing in for you."

Shelley squealed and jumped up and down. "Thank you! Do you want to come?"

He turned his head slowly to her. "Why? Because you know I'll insist on footing the bill?"

"You don't know what else to do with that six figure salary of yours."

"That's because I've only had it for two weeks. I'm sure I'll grow to fit it. Sorry, sweetheart, I already ate. And I have work to do."

**/FNL/**

"Monday, seriously?" Coach Shannon asked.

Eric nodded into his scotch. The coaches were seated on circular wood stools at the dark cherry bar of the resteruant and pub a few miles from the school.

"Can you do that? Two games into the season?" asked Coach Warner. "Isn't that against some rule?"

"It's done all the time, Stan." Eric raised his glass and sipped.

"Well, you've escaped and we're left in the cage with Coach Erickson," said Coach Shannon. "Banging our heads against a solid wall." He raised his rum and coke. "Cheers to you, Eric."

Eric raised his scotch and accepted John Shannon's salute. Reluctantly, Stan Warner joined in. "Fuck you," Stan said when he clanged Eric's glass with his own Jack and Ginger.

"How'd Tami take the news?" John Shannon asked. "Didn't she just start a new job this week?"

Eric scratched the back of his neck. "She wasn't thrilled. But she told me to take the job. She knows it's good for my career."

"Is that why you're still out with us tonight?" Stan asked. "Don't want to go home to the pissed off wife?"

Eric wiped the condensation from the outside of his glass. "Nah. She's not home anyway. She went to see her sister in Dallas this weekend."

"Oooooooh," Stan and John chorused simultaneously.

"Truh-ble in paradise," John concluded.

"You better straighten that out," Stan said, "because Tami is a damn fine looking woman."

Eric jerked his head up and turned to his left to look at Stan. "What the hell does that mean?"

Coach Warner shook his head with a slight smile. "I just mean…if she's ticked at you…and wants a little retribution, I'm sure she doesn't lack for opportunities."

"Tami would never cheat on me." Eric picked up his scotch and his eyes grew dark and hard. "Don't impu…impu…" He was having trouble getting the word out without slurring it – "_impugn_ my wife's honor by shuggeshting – "

"Impugn?" Stan laughed. "Honor?" He pointed to Eric's glass. "How many of those have you had tonight, Coach?"

Coach Shannon put a hand on Eric's shoulder. "Settle down, Taylor. I'm sure Stan didn't mean anything by it. I'm sure all he really meant to say was that you've got a good woman there in Tami, and you oughtn't take her for granted."

"I don't," Eric grumbled. He took out his wallet and dropped a wad of cash on the bar. He reached for his scotch and finished it off in one swallow. He slid off the stool and stumbled slightly. "I'm goin' home."

He took a step, and John swiveled on his bar stool and grabbed his arm. "You're not driving. I'll take you home. Call me in the morning when you're up and we'll come get your car."

**/FNL/**

Eric looked at the flashing blue and red lights in the rear view mirror. "I shink he's trying to pull you ober."

"Then why doesn't he have his sirens on?" Coach Shannon asked.

Just then there was a loud whooo-p from the police car. John pulled over to the side of the road. He reached over Eric and opened the glove compartment to pull out his registration, and then he dug in his pocket for his wallet before rolling down the window. The police man leaned his head in. "Coach Eric Taylor," he said in a deep, stern voice.

Eric jumped a little. It was Marcus's father. "Mr. Thomas. _Ofisher_ Thomas. I didn't know you were a poleesh man."

"I don't like to drive my marked car for off duty purposes."

Officer Thomas took the license and registration form Coach Shannon's hand. "You know why I pulled you over tonight?"

"No, sir," John admitted.

"You boys been drinking this evening?"

"He has," Coach Shannon said, pointing to Eric. "I just had a couple. That's why I'm driving."

"Then you won't mind consenting to a breathilizer?" Officer Thomas asked.

"No, sir," John answered confidently. He blew just below the legal limit.

"You're close. And you were weaving a bit," Officer Thomas said. "But I'm going to let this go because I know you're hurting from that spectacular loss today."

John and Eric both winced.

"But I'm going to follow you while you drive Coach Taylor home, and then I'm going to follow you again when you drive yourself home. And if I need to pull you over again and take you in, I will. So make sure you're paying attention."

"Yes, sir," Coach Shannon answered while Eric studied the dashboard.

When they got to the Taylors' house, Officer Thomas followed Eric to the door. Martin leaned against the porch of the post, his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. "Listen. My son's taking this whole not being allowed to see your daughter thing harder than I thought he would. And I don't think they need to talk on the phone so much or spend so much time working together…and they've got new partners now, so that's that. But, I've been thinking. Maybe they _could_ study for their upcoming math test together or something."

Eric was steadying himself with his hand on the door. "Are you sheerious?"

"Do you have a problem with my son? You claimed you didn't."

"I don't have a…" Eric shook his head loosely. "We're moving. I shhtart a new job in…" He concentrated on his annunciation "Dillon Monday. My family will follow over winter break."

"Well, that solves that then."

"Yeah."

Officer Thomas nodded. "But you're okay with Julie coming over after school Thursday to study with Marcus for the test Friday?"

"Will an – " he waved his hand absently in the air "adult be pressen?"

"My wife gets home from work at two, so she'll be there."

Eric nodded. "Okay then. But sheriously? Why'd you change your mind?"

"My wife was a little upset by the way I handled it."

Eric smirked. "I'd shink a guy like you, police offisher and all, would have more control over his women folk."

Martin Thomas glared at Eric and his smirk faltered. Coach Taylor turned and attempted to enter the door. After two tries, he managed to get his key in the lock.

"You have a good night now, Coach Taylor," Martin told him as he opened the door. "Perhaps we aren't so different as I imagined."


	13. Making Up

**Chapter 13: Making Up **

It was after midnight when Tami's cell phone rang for the third time. She'd let Julie stay up unusually late because it was a special occasion. They were all watching a movie in the living room. Shelley had made strawberry daiquiris and had given her niece a virgin version, but the adults were enjoying the good stuff.

Tami was about to dismiss the call yet again when she decided to answer it. She didn't want Eric to worry, but she _had_ asked him to give her some space and time. As she picked up, Jay, Shelley, and Julie burst into simultaneous laughter at the scene playing itself out on the television screen. Tami walked away to Shelley's bedroom and shut the door.

"Who's the guy I hear?" Eric asked. "Shelley's latest boyfriend?"

"Her roommate."

"They're shacking up? I don't know if I want Julie -"

" – He's just her roommate. He has his own room. There's absolutely nothing going on there, I _guarantee_ you," Tami assured him.

"Okay."

"Eric, I asked you not to call me."

"I know. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went to bed."

She didn't know quite what to say to that. She was glad she couldn't see his apologetic eyes or his probably adorably disarrayed hair at the moment. She wanted to stay mad a little longer.

"I know I've got a good thing in you, Tami. I just want you to know I know I know that. I mean…I know that."

"Have you been drinking?" she asked.

"A little. Why? Am I slurring my words? I thought I was past that now."

"No," she said. "You're not slurring. You're just talking kind of fast. I've been drinking a little too." How had he gotten her off on this conversational tangent? She needed to get back to the point – "But, listen, I asked you to give me some space this weekend."

"I know. But you scared me. Just leaving like that. Why didn't you talk to me first to see – "

" - Oh, really, Eric? It's upsetting when your spouse does something major without discussing it with you first?"

"Well, I – "

" - And this doesn't even really affect you. I'm gone for two days. I'm not going to be gone for five days at a time for over three months. And you don't have to quit your job and follow me. You don't have to give up _anything_ for me to make a visit to Dallas."

"I didn't take the job without discussing it. I didn't move to Dillon without discussing it. I discussed it with you before I signed the contract. You told me to sign it this morning. Do you want me to back out?"

"No. I don't want you to back out." She threw herself down on Shelley's queen-sized bed, the one she'd be sharing with Julie tonight. "We've been through this. But you didn't discuss it with me until _after_ you got the offer! You should have told me about the opening right away, _before_ you applied."

"Okay. I should have. I'm sorry. Maybe I _was_ a coward. I mean, yes, I _was_ afraid to tell you. But I wasn't afraid because…Listen, I was afraid of hurting you. Dissapointing you. That's what I was most afraid of."

Tami sighed deeply. "Do you understand at _**all**_ why I'm so upset you didn't discuss it with me before you applied?"

"I thought – why upset you if I wasn't sure I'd get the job? _I_ thought I was being loving. But it _felt_ condescending to you. You felt…like I was treating you like a child and not an equal partner."

"Yes."

"It made you feel like I don't trust you to be reasonable. Like we aren't moving together toward a common goal."

"_Yes," _she said with some surprise, "You _do_ understand."

"I've been reading that book of yours. You know, the one subtitled _A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships_."

She laughed, but her laugh tapered off. "Wait. Really?"

"No. But I've been married to you for fourteen years. I can read you like a book."

She snorted.

"I can when I listen to you," he said. "I heard what you said last night and this morning. I did. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – scratch that."

That was a quick save on his part, Tami thought. He knew she hated those four little words, _I didn't mean to_. She loathed that excuse. _I didn't mean to._ Maybe you didn't _mean_ to, but you _**did**_.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way," he concluded.

"Thank you. Also, you know, it wouldn't have been such a shock if you had prepared me. It wouldn't have been you dropping a bomb on me. It would have been us…diffusing it together." She laughed at herself. "Bad metaphor."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't do that again," Tami told him. "Don't apply for a job without discussing it with me first, not if you expect me to follow you around and support you in your career."

"I won't."

"I'm sorry too."

Eric sounded confused when he asked, "What's that now?"

"I'm sorry. I think maybe I overreacted a little. Shelley…Shelley kind of put things in perspective for me. Made me realize you're a pretty decent husband."

"Shelley? _Shelley_ put in a good word for me?"

"Not directly." Tami smiled to herself when she recalled Shelley's inability to understand how she could be so upset when she had a responsible man who was fully committed to her. "You're a good man, Eric. You care about your family. You love me."

The one thing they had fought about most over the years was his job. Tami sometimes felt he took her support for his career – and her temporary shelving of her own – for granted. But if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit she sometimes likewise took his provision for granted. He had worked to build his career. He had a passion for football, but he also had a passion for making sure his family was financially secure, and in those early years, he had sometimes needed to work two jobs to do that. He hadn't always done _only_ what he loved, and he hadn't always loved what he'd done, but he'd always done what he had to. "I don't tell you this enough," she said, "but I appreciate that you've always worked so hard to provide for your family. I appreciate you giving me the chance to stay home with Julie when she was little, because that's what I wanted to do at the time. It's a relief to know I can always rely on you if I need or want to."

Eric was silent on the other end of the line. Were her words that unexpected? Finally, his quieted voice came over the phone. "Thank you for telling me that. And thank you for all…all you do for me. I know how much you do. I love you."

She looked up at the ceiling. It was pink. Pink. Her thirty-four year old sister had painted the ceiling pink. The walls were off-white, however.

Eric's next question came hesitantly: "Are we're okay?"

"We're _**going**_ to be okay."

"A'ight. Well I can sleep knowing that."

"I can't say it won't be tense the next few months. I'm frustrated I have to quit so soon."

"I know."

"I might as well give my notice Monday, in case it takes them a long time to find someone. I don't want to leave them hanging." She let a hand drape over her forehead, "Yeah me!" she said sarcastically. "I'll have a three-week long career under my belt!"

"You worked before Julie was born."

"A year and a half. We had to move after football season to that school in Chicago. Remember? But we couldn't stay there more than four years because Illinois doesn't appreciate football enough!"

"Sorry," he muttered.

"I didn't know I was signing up to be a nomad when I married you."

"You've always had a solid roof over your head, Tami." He sounded irritated now. "And six years isn't exactly a camping trip. We stayed six years in Dillon the first time."

"Yeah, but that's the longest we've stayed anywhere, and you switched jobs while we were there. And we had to move _**twice**_ within Dillon."

"Yeah, Tami. Once because _**you**_ wanted a bigger apartment. And once because _**you**_ wanted to buy the house! And guess what, we're going back to that house. We're going back to Dillon. So you can consider it home."

"I don't know if I _**want**_ to consider Dillon home."

"Well maybe you would if you got more involved in community things," he suggested.

"Oh, now I'm not involved enough? It wasn't enough for me to keep your home and raise your daughter and balance your checkbook and take the courses to keep my counseling certification updated? Which apparently I didn't need to bother to do since I'm not going to be able - "

"- Is this what it's going to be like for the next few months? Seriously?"

She sighed. The conversation had been going well. But somewhere, somehow, things had taken an ugly turn, and it was because she was still upset. "Eric, I don't think I'm really mad at you. I'm mad at the _situation_. But I'm going to take it out on you. Because you're available. So I'm going to hang up now and take this weekend to cool down. Like I originally planned."

"Okay."

"Goodbye. Don't call me again." She clicked off her cell phone, tossed it on the bed, looked up at the pink ceiling, and let out a frustrated groan.

**/FNL/**

Tami yawned her way into the kitchen. She'd tried to stay in bed – she was tired enough physically – but she just wasn't sleeping. Shelley's roommate Jay sat at the rectangular, two-chaired table just outside the kitchen bar. "Coffee?" he asked, pointing to the silver-lined glass container. "I've just pressed it."

Tami sat down across the table from him. "Is that a French press?"

He nodded, rose, got her a mug, and poured her a fresh cup. It was thick and rich and delicious. "I need one of these," she said. "But Eric would complain it was pretentious."

"Eric. That's a good name. Solid. Manly."

"Well, Eric is solid and manly." Tami sipped her coffee.

"He isn't macho is he?"

"I wouldn't say he's particularly macho." She shrugged. "That has a certain connotation. He's more masculine than macho. I just don't think of macho men crying when their daughter is born, or remembering the song that was playing the first time you kissed and then giving you that CD ten years later for your anniversary, or – oh damn it!"

"Damn what?" Jay asked.

"I love my husband."

"Horrible thing, that."

"And I forgot to ask him how his game went last night." She put down her coffee cup and stood up.

"His game? What does he play?"

Tami didn't answer Jay. She was already half way to the balcony. She sat in one of the two flimsy chairs that was out there. An empty wine bottle lay on its side on the cement porch, and another empty one stood up on the small circular table between the two chairs. This was how Shelley drove Eric crazy. Not the drinking, but the failure to pick up after herself. Tami shook her head and fished out her cell phone.

Eric grunted hello. He sounded hungover.

"How was your game?" she asked.

"Uh…I thought we weren't talking this weekend."

"How was your game?" she repeated.

"Awful. We lost. By a lot. Coach Erickson didn't listen to a single suggestion John made, and he had some good ones. So did I."

"I'm sure you did, hon. You're good at what you do."

"Uh…thanks." She heard him shifting and grunting again. She supposed he was still in bed and had just grabbed his cell when it rang and was now rolling over. "So. What are you girls doing today?" he asked.

"That's still under negotiation. Julie wants to go to the aquarium. I want to go to the arboretum. Shelley wants to go to Speed Zone."

"Speed Zone?"

"Go karts."

"Oh dear God. No business owner in his right mind should allow that woman near a go kart."

Tami laughed. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"I don't know. It's just me all by my lonesome."

"Poor baby." She reached down, picked up the wine bottle that was on its side, and put it upright next to the one on the table.

"Watch some football, I guess. Start packing. Do some yard work. Think I'll probably skip church tomorrow morning, since you guys aren't here."

"You can go by yourself."

"Nah. I don't like to do that. People always jabber at me after the service. That's harder to deal with when you're not there to answer for me."

She chuckled.

"And the service seems longer when I don't have anyone to whisper sarcastic comments about the sermon to. Besides, I'm sure you're not going to church tomorrow."

"Nope. Shelley got us all appointments at the spa. Then a late lunch and off to the airport."

"The spa? What's that going to cost?"

"Well I have at least one paycheck coming, hon. And you're getting a slight raise."

"How much were the plane tickets?"

"You don't want to know. And I'm not letting you see that credit card bill when it comes either."

She heard him sigh, but he didn't press the point. He knew he was on thin ice already. "Have you told Julie?"

She shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "I thought we should do that together. We should have a family talk when we get home Sunday. But you have to leave at five in the morning Monday, don't you?"

"Yeah. I have to report in Dillon at 8:30. So I better leave that early, just to make sure."

"I shouldn't have dragged Julie off to Dallas. I should have left us more time to talk."

"Well, she's wanted to see her Aunt Shelley for a while," Eric reassured her. "We'll talk before bed."

"We – "

The sliding glass door to the porch slid open and Julie came and sat in the chair beside her.

"Do you want to talk to your daughter?" Tami handed the phone to Julie.

Julie listened and said, "I'm having fun. We're going to the aquarium today." There was a pause and then. "Really, you're letting me study for a test with Marcus?"

Tami raised an eyebrow. She'd been gone less than a day and Eric had not only decided to ease up about Marcus, but had convinced Martin Thomas to allow him and Julie to study together? What had that man been up to?

"Well," Julie was saying now. "Why don't you just pick me up from his house Thursday on your way home from practice? He lives close to your high school."

Tami bit her lip and watched Julie out of the corner of her high. Was Eric going to tell her he'd be in Dillon? Apparently not, because Julie just listened quietly for aw hile and said, "I love you, too, Dad" before returning the phone to her mom.


	14. Breaking the News

**Chapter 14: Breaking the News**

Eric pulled up to the curb at the baggage claim, leapt from the car, and put his wife and daughter's bags in the trunk. He wished he could have met them at the gate, like in the old days. As Julie slid into the backseat Eric saw Tami starting to sit in the front. "Wait! Don't!" he exclaimed, but it was too late. She had sat down without looking.

"Ow!" she cried and stood up. She reached behind her skirt and began rubbing her bottom. "Ouch!" She plucked at her skirt. "What did you do that for!" She cried. "Did you want me to get thorns in my ass?" She picked up the roses testily and sat on the seat.

Eric climbed in the car and shut the door. "I wanted to surprise you with some flowers. I didn't expect you to sit on them. I expected you to say thank you, honey, how sweet of you. Not to yell _ass_ in front of our twelve year old daughter."

"Well you just said ass yourself!" Tami shot back "Just now!"

A car honked behind them.

In the backseat, Julie had an amused and somewhat self-satisfied smirk on her face. "You better get your ass moving, Dad."

"Julie!" father and mother scolded simultaneously as Eric pulled away from the curb.

As they drove, Eric asked, "So, how was the trip? How is your sister?"

"It was fun," Tami answered. "Shelley's taking a break from relationships for a while, which I think is going to be good for her. She's going to work on herself for a while."

Eric snickered. "What part of herself is she going to work on this time? Her hair or her abs?"

"Don't do that." Tami shot him a warning glare. "Don't do that, Eric." But then she smiled just a little. She turned to hide it.

"Her hair was a different color again," Julie said. "It's platinum blonde now. I love it. I want to dye mine that way. Can I do it next weekend?"

"No!" Tami and Eric answered simultaneously.

"Julie, honey," Tami said more softly. "You have gorgeous hair. And you don't want to start dying it until you have to. It'll stay in better shape that way."

Julie sighed.

Eric reached over and brushed a strand of Tami's hair from her face and smiled. She knew he was paying her a compliment, but he just didn't have the specific words. He looked tired, as though he hadn't slept much this weekend. He'd lost a game, he'd had a scare with her flying off to Dallas, and he was about to hit the ground and start a new job running. He had to be incredibly nervous, no matter how thick the veneer of confidence.

**/FNL/**

"It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!" Julie screamed.

Eric put his hand over his eyes and bent forward where he sat on the couch.

Julie was standing on the other side of the coffee table, pacing and shouting, and Tami was sitting next to him, a comforting hand on his knee. Julie was suddenly three again, but not the good three, the three when he was the center of her universe, the apple of her eye, the prince in her imaginary castle, who could do no wrong. No, the bad three, when she'd be lying stretched out on the living room carpet, her little hands and feet pounding the floor, her face so red it was almost strawberry.

The first time it had happened, when she was two and a half, and Julie had flung herself with such inward focus and violence on her bedroom floor because her father had told her that no, they would not be going to Disney World anytime soon, if ever, Eric had stepped back and turned to Tami and said, "What's wrong with our daughter? Do you think she has that thing everyone talks about?"

"What thing?" Tami had asked.

"That disorder thing. What's wrong with her?"

"What's wrong with her? She's three. And she's having an all out tantrum."

"This is normal?" Eric had asked, his voice raising to an almost squeal on the last word. "How long does it last?"

Tami shrugged. "I don't know. I've been a parent as long as you have. Though apparently I bother to read. Let's leave her there and go have a glass of wine in the kitchen."

"Julie, babe, sit down," Tami now commanded, softly, but not weakly.

"I don't want to sit down."

"Sit down!" Eric yelled.

Tami turned and gave him a warning glare.

"Sit down, please," he said contritely.

"It's so not fair!" Julie said as she plopped into an arm chair. "I just started school. I've finally made friends in Midland! Real friends! I hate Dillon! I hate it!"

"You had friends in Dillon." Eric's tone was scolding and defensive all at once.

"No I didn't. Not really. They all made fun of me. They called me a bookworm."

"You were friends with that Lois girl, you – " Eric fell silent when Tami put a hand on his shoulder and tapped it lightly. Her eyes said, _let me handle this_. He knew that's what her eyes said because he'd seen them say it a hundred times, at parent-teacher conferences, at cocktail parties, when they'd announced their engagement to her unreceptive mother, at lunches with boosters, even at the car dealership. He chose to regard it as liberating rather than emasculating. Tami had special talents he lacked. She leaned on him in the dark on a street when a sketchy man was passing. He leaned on her in the light across a table when an emotional or sociable person was speaking. It was a fair trade.

"Julie, I understand this is difficult and disappointing. Believe me, I'm disappointed too. You started a new school this year for junior high, but I started a new job, the first job I've had in twelve years, and I was really looking forward to it, and now I have to start completely from scratch all over again."

Eric glared at her. How was this helping? Other than to make him feel guilty, at which she was succeeding grandly, if that was her goal. It irritated him to feel guilty. He clenched his teeth and looked away and waited for her to continue.

Julie slumped down into an arm chair and looked at her mother.

"So I understand. I do," Tami said. "But this is good for your father's career. He's worked very hard to get to this point – very hard - and this could mean a better future for him and for us."

"I don't see how it could mean a better future for _us_," Julie grumbled.

"Because if he works his way up to head coach of Dillon Panthers, he'll make a lot more money than he does now and be able to send you to a good college, and you'll start life without a load of debt weighing you down, that's why."

"Who cares? _You_ never did anything with _your_ college degree."

Eric watched his wife's face grow suddenly flush. Her jaw quivered, and her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't say anything.

"And don't tell me he's doing it so he can send me to a good college," Julie spat. "Oh, that's why he's doing it, is he? For _me_? For _my_ future? Not because he only cares about his _own_ career? Not because he loves Jason Street more than he loves me? Not because he always wished he had a son instead of a daughter!" She stood up, marched to her room, and slammed the door. It shuddered in the frame and the rattling could be heard in the living room.

Eric turned wide eyed to Tami. "What the hell was that? How could she think that?"

Tami shook her head slowly. "Give her ten minutes. Then you better try talking to her." She sighed. "Julie's right. I never used my degree."

"You worked before Julie was born. And you've used stuff you learned when you were vol - "

"- It's okay, Eric. I made my choices."

"I just don't want you to feel like I'm holding you back, like – "

"- I don't. I mean, not really."

He slid now to the other side of the couch, half leaned against the arm, and faced her. "What does that mean?"

"I was going to start to get back into it again, and this is going to set me back another year or two. Because I have to move everything, unpack, get acclimated to Dillon, make connections, get Julie settled in at her new school, get you settled in your new job – "

"- I think I can get myself settled in my new job, thank you."

"I mean you're going to need a little help. There's always a political angle, you know. You're a great coach, and as sweet and open as you can be with _me_, you just aren't a people person. There's going to be damage control I have to do - "

"- Damage control?"

She laughed. "Come on. You know how this works by now. Anyway, I'll start looking for a job after all that is done. But who knows how long it will take me to find one. So I'm set back again. That's all I'm saying."

He eyed her warily.

"I'm not mad at you. Marriage requires compromise. That's just the reality. You've compromised before too. You took that job in Chicago for me right after we were married, even though you preferred to take the offer in Texas."

"You liked living there, I know. But Texas is home. Texas – "

"- We came back," Tami interrupted him. "We're here. I love Texas too. I just think there's a world outside of Texas, you know?" She slid close and stroked his cheek.

"I want you to be happy," he said.

She kissed him slowly. When he pressed his forehead to hers, she said, "You better go talk to her."

**/FNL/**

Eric shut the door softly behind himself and came and sat next to Julie on the bed. She was sitting against the corner of the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees, the same posture he'd seen her mother use from time to time over the years when she was angry – that circle of self-defense.

He looked across the room at the Jonas Brothers poster on her wall, the one he usually made fun of, but he said nothing snide about it tonight. The silence was uncomfortable. "I wish I knew what to say," he ventured finally. "I'm not very good with words."

"Really?" she said, her hands slipping lower on her legs. "Because you have a pretty good reputation for making speeches in the locker room, you know. But that's different, of course. Those are your boys. I'm just a girl."

His mouth opened, then closed. What was this? He didn't understand. Did she think he was a chauvinist? If she did, she hadn't met his fellow coaches, half his players, the guys he used to play with. He'd married the strongest woman he knew. Sure, Tami had chosen something of a domestic life for herself, but she wasn't exactly a shrinking violet. "I'm not a chauvinist," he muttered, half confused, half defensive.

"It has nothing to do with that."

"Julie, I don't understand. Do you think I love you less because you're a girl? Because you weren't a boy?"

"Maybe."

"Why would you think that?"

She shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

He sighed. "Well it isn't true. I don't know how I'm supposed to convince you of that though. You know, I _wanted_ a girl the first time around. I told your mother that."

She looked at him through eyes still slightly moist from her earlier crying. "No you didn't."

"I did. Ask your mom. I was blessed with you, Julie babe. When you were born…that was the happiest day of my life. Maybe even happier than when your mom finally agreed to marry me. But don't tell her that."

Julie smiled despite her clear effort not to. "Mom wouldn't agree to marry you right away?"

"Let's not talk about that. Anyway, you and your mom are the most important people in the world to me. I know you don't get this, but it isn't _all_ about my career. I have goals, yeah. And I love football. But whatever I'm doing for a living, I'm going to be doing it with more passion because of my family. That makes it mean more. I know it's not easy on you or your mom to have to follow me around. I know you give up things. Look," he reached out a hand, a little closer to her, "I don't do it to hurt you. I love you. Very much. I wish you'd believe that. I wish I was a better father." He stood and walked to the door.

"Dad?" Julie said softly, and he turned. "I never said you were a bad father."

"You didn't?"

She shook her head. "I guess sort of like you never said you wanted a boy more than girl. But sometimes we hear things anyway, huh?"

His hand was still on the knob of the door. "You're a very smart young lady, Julie. Perceptive. Sensitive. I'm proud your mine." He opened the door and walked out.

When he got out of Julie's room, Tami was already in bed. Eric stripped down to his boxers, double checked the alarm, crawled in next to her, and put an arm around her. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"Okay. Could have gone better."

Tami rolled around and kissed him. "Want sex?"

He smiled. "Is that a rhetorical question?" He drew her as close as he could. "You're not still mad?"

"Not at the _moment_. And we won't see each other for five days. And you're tense, sugar. So it seems the right thing to do."

His lips tightened into his straight-lip frown. "So you're being dutiful."

"Dutiful," she kissed his ear. "Yeah, that's me. Dutiful. That's why I never question you, hon. I'm a very dutiful wife."

His lips quivered and then curved into a satirical smile as she kissed them. Her hands slid under his shirt.

"I love you," he said just before he moved his head slightly to capture her mouth fully.

The next morning, when he got out of the shower, the bed was empty. She was already up. She handed him a plate of scrambled eggs when he walked into the kitchen, and he wolfed it down. He set the plate on the countertop and took the coffee she extended him. "Thank you," he said. "Why are you being so nice?"

"Because you're tired, and you've had a scare this week, and you're starting a new job today, and you're trying not to let on how anxious you are, and maybe I actually know how to be a considerate wife."

He put his cup down on the counter and drew her against himself. He kissed the top of her head. "You know how to be every kind of wife there is."

She looked up with a light smile. "I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment. Since we won't see each other for a few days."

"Good. Because that's how I meant it, you know."

"I think you meant to be a smart ass."

"Nah! No," he said innocently.

She patted his chest. "It's okay. I like that part of you."

"The smart ass part of me?"

"Yep. Otherwise you'd just be the nice guy, and that would be boring. It's nice you have a quality to break that up. Of course you have the irritability too. That also gives me a break from too much pleasantness."

He turned his head slightly to the side. "Who's being a smart ass now?"

She pushed him lightly away. "You better go."

He let go of her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry things didn't work out quite the way…Dillon's going to be good to us, though. The Panthers are going to be good for us."

She nodded. It wasn't quite agreement, but it was more than resignation. He slid his keys from the kitchen counter and left.


	15. A Real Kiss

**Chapter 15:**

Eric was alone in the Streets' house in Dillon on Thursday evening. The Streets had gone out for a family dinner. They'd invited him, but he'd politely declined. He was highly nervous about his first game with the Panthers tomorrow, and he was hauled up in the spare bedroom the Streets had lent him, going through play diagrams again and again. He'd been doing it since he'd gotten home – _home_, not an apt word; he was a guest, the Streets were kind, but he wasn't home here. He missed Tami and Julie, missed the familiar features of his own home, missed people knowing by instinct when he didn't want to talk and leaving him the hell alone.

He dropped his pencil on the desk he'd been given to work with. The Streets had hauled it out of the garage, where it had been in storage. It was white and looked like a girl's desk. He was cramped working here, but he didn't exactly want to be rude and spread out all over their kitchen table. He crumpled up his current sketch and glanced around for the trash can. Joanne had apparently moved it to empty it and had not returned it. He pulled open the top left desk drawer instead and prepared to shove the paper inside.

He paused when he caught sight of the name written in black marker inside the drawer, in a scrawl that looked like Julie's had when she was five or six – Angela Street. They had never mentioned her, this Angela. Why did they keep her desk in the garage? Was she a grown aunt or cousin whose furniture they had inherited to keep in case a daughter was ever born? He had never heard of her before, all those years he'd coached Jason through Pee Wee. Something about the name made him feel awkward, as though he were peering at something too private, and he slid the drawer abruptly shut. He lay the crumpled paper on the top of the desk and was relieved from his thoughts by a distracting knock on the front door.

He didn't want to talk to anyone, but he didn't want to be thinking about that name either, or his own little girl, or how much he missed his wife, or how much more challenging this assistant coaching gig was than he had expected it to be, or the fact that Jason had to do well in this first game tomorrow, that his prodigy had to shine, that his future career might depend on it.

He rose and exited the spare room and opened the front door. A boy stood there, who looked to be about Julie's age, maybe a little older. He had closed-cropped blonde hair that was turning brown and a full set of lips. He was holding a pad in his hand, an envelope stuffed with cash, and a pencil. "Hi. Is Mr. Street here? I'm collecting for the paper," he said.

Eric glanced up and down the street. He saw the kid's bicycle thrown down on its side in the front yard. "I didn't know kids had paper routes anymore. I thought it was all done by delivery companies now."

"Well, I asked and they let me have this route. It's $21.85. Plus tip."

Eric smirked. This boy wasn't exactly subtle, but he had to admire a kid who worked these days. It was all he could do to get Julie to wash the dishes. "Well, the Streets aren't here, but I'll pay. Hold on." He went back inside and got his wallet. He handed the kid a $20 and a $5. A look of disdain crossed the boy's blue-green eyes as he took the bills, and Eric, with a scowl, fished out another $5 and handed it to him. "That's all I have."

"You want change?" the boy asked.

"No." Eric muttered through a nearly closed mouth.

"Thanks," the boy said. "Please tell Mr. Street I'll be by to mow his lawn Saturday if he wants."

"You mow lawns too?" Eric asked. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen, sir," he said. He shoved the money in his envelope, his envelope in the long pocket in front of his sweatshirt jacket, and held out his hand. "Matt Saracen."

Eric shook his hand. "Did you go to Sam Hill elementary?" The kid would have been in grammar school when Eric last lived in Dillon, back when he was assistant coach for the Bobcats. If Matt was in Julie's school, Eric had never seen him before. It was a small town, but Coach Taylor had never been the type who knew everyone. If the boy wasn't a friend of Julie's, or a younger brother of a player, or a booster's kid, and he didn't sit _directly_ in front of him in the pew in church, Eric wouldn't have known him.

Matt shook his head. "No, I went to Lakeview Elementary. I'm at Lakeside Junior High now."

Eric nodded. That's where _he_ had coached, although it wasn't where Julie would be attending junior high next quarter. She'd be going to the other junior high. She wouldn't likely run into Matt until high school.

Eric looked the kid over. He was a little scrawny, maybe, but he was only 13. He worked. He rode that bike everywhere, he'd guess. Mowed lawns. He'd probably be in good shape by high school. "Do you play on the Bobcats?"

"The football team?"

"No. The ice hockey team."

"No, sir, I don't."

Eric put a hand on the side of the door. "Why not?"

"I don't have time. And I'm not that into football."

"Not that into football?"

"I'll play a pick up game, sure, you know, but – "

"Well you're not going to have much of a chance of getting on the Panthers when you're in high school next year if you don't play now. You better work on that."

"Uh…yes, sir?"

"I mean seriously, son, that's just ridiculous."

"Uh…yes, sir."

"Okay then. Good day, Matt." Eric shut the door.

**/ FNL / **

Just outside the sidelines, Tami put her arms around Eric, and it was as if the cheering crowd simply faded away. Weary and relieved, he nestled his face against hers.

"Good job, hon," she said before she kissed him.

"Thank God," he muttered when her lips pulled way. "I didn't need to lose my first game." It had been close, but the Panthers had triumphed in the end, and Jason had displayed more than an inkling of his talent. Things were off to a good start – better, now that Tami had run up to and embraced him without any lingering hint of resentment. Maybe she'd missed him enough this week that she'd forgotten her irritation. God knows he'd missed her. "Let's go home, babe," he whispered. "I want to go home with you."

"Well, we've still got a two hour drive," she reminded him. "And Julie's going to have to go straight to bed when we get home. _I_ might want to go straight to bed."

He smiled lecherously. "Good."

"I mean to sleep," she said. "It's late already, and that's quite a drive."

"We'll stop and get some coffee on the way."

"I'll think about it," she said.

"What is there to think about?" he grumbled, and she patted his cheek teasingly.

"We'll see you back home," she said. "I guess you'll just be a half hour behind us."

"No, listen, wait for me to get out of the lockerroom. Let's caravan. I don't like y'all drivin' alone that far at night." Tami rolled her eyes, but she half smiled at the same time, as though maybe she was secretly pleased by his protectiveness. Or maybe she was just amused by what she saw as his foolishness. "And I want Julie to ride back with me," he continued. "Daddy daughter bonding time. And that'll give you a nice, quiet drive to listen to whatever you want to listen to and energize yourself."

"Energize myself?" she asked through a laugh.

"Energize," he repeated, in a lower, sultrier tone. He kissed her smiling lips.

In the truck, he tried to make conversation with Julie. Beyond her three-word, "Good game, Dad," she'd had almost nothing to say. Every question he'd asked was answered with a three word maximum, and she spent most of the time fiddling with the radio, hopping from station to station. She flipped it again now right in the middle of a song, and when she drew her hand away, he slapped the knob and the radio went abruptly silent.

"What did you do that for?" she asked.

"We don't need the radio on. Let's talk."

She crossed her arms over her chest. Eric glanced in the rearview mirror at Tami in the car behind him. She was jerking her head back and forth and singing - apparently very loudly from the look of it. _Nicely energized_, he thought.

They'd stopped at the 7-11 on the way out of Dillon, because it was there, and it was open. "I don't guess I'll be getting a double espresso here," Tami had muttered. He'd pointed to the machine that made those fake, sugary, pseudo cappuccinos. "No thank you," she told him. "I'll just get Mountain Dew."

"Get the _big_ Big Gulp," he'd said.

"I don't think I need a gallon, hon. I'll just have to pee the entire drive, and then I'll have to stop at some sketchy gas station. No thank you."

Julie had gotten a cherry cola Slurpee. Eric had tried to talk her out of the caffeinated choice, reminding her that she needed to go to bed _as soon_ as they got home.

That was an hour ago. "How's school?" he asked now.

"The school I'll be leaving in four months?"

Eric stared straight ahead through the windshield. The flat Texas landscape expanded far into the horizon. The beams lit a bright but fuzzy path in the darkness. This might turn out to be a long drive indeed. "How was your study session with Marcus?" He didn't like bringing up the boy, but if anything was going to get her talking, it would be that boy, wouldn't it?

"You mean the best friend I'll be leaving behind in four months?"

"So you think of him as your best friend? Better than Kim?"

"Kim's not talking to me anymore."

"Why's that?"

"She's tired of her mom going on and on about your amazing hair and your awesome biceps, so she figured if she didn't come around me anymore, she wouldn't have to worry about it."

"What? ! ?"

"Okay, that's not really why, although she _is_ tired of it."

Eric didn't respond to this. Maybe Tami had been right about Kim's mom after all. His feelings danced from flattered to unnerved to repulsed and then back to flattered.

"She's not talking to me anymore because I won the bet, and then she claimed we hadn't agreed on $10, when we had agreed on $10, and then she said I was a little cheat – "

"- What bet?"

"Who'd _really_ kiss a boy first. So I said I didn't cheat, it was fair and square, whoa, Dad – "

Eric had just swerved the car. Thankfully the road was desolate enough that there was no oncoming traffic when he crossed into the other lane. He righted and steadied the truck in the lane. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He swallowed. "And who did you kiss? Marcus?"

"No, my other boyfriend."

"Marcus isn't your boyfriend." His cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Tami had her cell to her ear. He fished in his pocket and answered.

"What the hell was that?" she asked. "What did you put in that Big Gulp?"

"I was just startled."

"By what? Did something run in the road? I didn't see anything."

"Do you know your daughter kissed Marcus?" he asked.

She sighed. "How did you find out about that?"

"So you knew. You knew and didn't tell me."

"Of course I didn't tell you. You had your first game with the Panthers coming up. What kind of coach's wife would I be, hon, if I put that little tidbit of information on your irritable mind right before a game?'

"Irritable mind?"

"Irritable mind, babe. Irritable mind. Now don't flip out on Julie, and try to stay on the road." She hung up.

Eric slid his phone back into his pocket. _Really_ kissed a boy, she'd said. _Really_ kissed. As to opposed to...? "So you kissed him on the cheek?"

Julie laughed. "Sure, Dad. Sure. On the cheek. I'm twelve, by the way. I'm not sure if you know that. Twelve. Not two."

"Yeah, Julie babe. I know that. I am very, very aware."

They didn't say anything else for another ten minutes. Julie turned back on the radio and Eric let her. "The junior high you'll be going to in Dillon is really good. I think you'll like it."

"Can Marcus visit us in Dillon during spring break?"

"No. We're going on family vacation."

"No we're not. We never do. Spring training."

"Well, you and your mom are going to the beach. Corpus Christi."

"Mom didn't mention that."

"Well, maybe she just hasn't gotten around to it." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and then his eyes. He was tired. More tired than he'd realized. But if the Dr. Pepper didn't keep him awake, thoughts of Marcus kissing his daughter would.


	16. Somebody's Prince

**Chapter 16**

By the time they got home, the tension in Eric's muscles had dissipated to a dull ache. Julie would be moving soon, he just kept telling himself. She'll be in another town, two hours from Marcus. Still, he'd have to talk to Tami about what had happened on her watch. After all, they'd both agreed Julie was too young to date. But he wasn't going to argue with her about it tonight. He had other ideas for tonight, and any disagreement over Julie would not facilitate the accomplishment of those goals.

When they came through the front door, Julie immediately turned on the TV and hit rewind on the VCR. The tape ground and ground and Julie stood there, shaking her head at her father. "Normal people have DVD players and TiVos," she said.

"Normal people don't have year's and year's worth of game film still on VHS," he retorted.

"That's for sure."

"And why are you turning that on anyway?" he asked. "It's late. You should be getting to bed."

"I'm not tired yet." She hit play and her recording of an American Idol results show began. "And I didn't get to see this this week. And Marcus says he can't keep the results from me much longer and I have to watch before I see him at church on Sunday."

"Marcus doesn't go to our church," Eric said testily.

Julie flopped on the couch. "Mom said I could go to his church this Sunday. Marcus says it's so much cooler than our church. They clap and dance in the aisle and they've got this guy who's a totally awesome blues gospel singer. He's totally blind but he just goes up there to the pulpit in front of the choir and belts it out."

Eric turned his wary gaze on Tami, who was now sliding down on the couch next to Julie. He raised an eyebrow at her, but he didn't dare try to retract her permission slip to Julie. Not tonight. Save that debate for tomorrow.

"Well, I think your mom and I are going to hit the sack anyway. It's late. I'm sure your mother is very tired. Very. Tired."

From the couch, Tami's lips curved into a smile. "I'm a _little_ tired," she said. "And I'm probably going to get more tired later, but I'm not _quite_ as tired as you are _at the moment_."

"You _look_ tired," Eric insisted.

"I'm not usually tired after a long drive, Eric."

"But you're usually tired after one of my games, right? That usually makes you _highly_ tired."

"Yeah, when I just have to a drive a few blocks home afterward. But as _tired_ as watching you coach makes me, that tiredness kind of wears off after an hour if I don't actually _get_ to go to sleep. And now I'm just not that tired anymore."

"Well maybe you could just _try_ to go to sleep. Maybe if you just _try_ – "

"Eric, I want to see who gets eliminated this week too."

"Get eliminated," he grumbled as he shed his jacket and threw it in the arm chair. "He tossed his hat on top of the jacket. "Turn in a winning performance and still get eliminated." He padded behind the couch. "Well I'm going to bed anyway. Because I'm very tired. I've had a long week, and a hard first game, and I've worked very very hard, and I _deserve_ to sleep."

"Oh, you _deserve_ it?" Tami asked.

"Well," he backpedaled, "I didn't mean…" his voice died as he walked down the hallway. From the bedroom door, he shouted, "It's the short one. It's the short one who gets eliminated. I saw it at the Streets." And then he shut the door. Loudly.

He took a cold shower, got in his favorite pair of boxers, which he'd left at home, and crawled under the blankets. He folded his hands over his stomach and stared up at the ceiling. The shower had taken ten minutes. The results show was how long? He yawned. He shut his eyes for just a second. And the next thing he knew, the sunrise was filtering in through the blinds.

He blinked, turned, and saw that at some point in the night, Tami had crawled into bed. At some other point, she'd kicked the covers off herself, so that they were draped down just below her thighs. She was curled on her side, facing him, and wearing her blue and white plaid flannel PJ bottoms. She also had on the new Panthers T-shirt he'd given her just before they drove back from the game. He'd debated between the small and the medium women's t-shirt and had decided to err on the side of it not fitting rather than on the side of "What? Do you think I'm fat?" As it turned out, it was indeed too small, but not so small, apparently, that she couldn't pull it on. Its tightness only served to accentuate one, or should he say two, of her many virtues. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillow in a tangle of wild and natural beauty, and her chest rose and fell lightly with her breathing. He smiled and began to kiss her awake.

Half asleep and flailing with surprise, she snorted and accidentally – at least he hoped it was accidentally - slapped him on the face. "Owww…" he grumbled as she rolled over muttering, "What is it? What's that? Huh?" And then she stilled and was silent.

He slid up close to her, put an arm around her waist, and kissed her cheek.

"What time is it?" She turned in his arms. The clock glowed on the nightstand over his shoulder. She groaned. "Are you seriously waking me up for sex at 6:00 AM on a Saturday? A _Saturday_?"

"What?" he asked innocently. "What? I wasn't waking you up at all. I was just cuddling up to you in my sleep. You're the one who woke me up by slapping me. But, now, since you happen to be up…"

"Ugh." She flopped back over. "Go away. Let me sleep a little more. Come back in an hour."

"Fine," he said, sliding his arm away and rolling roughly onto his back.

**/FNL/**

When Tami woke up an hour later, Eric was lying on his back, asleep. She rose, went to the bathroom, and then returned to bed, where she sat for a moment watching her husband sleep.

He looked so adorable, his thick, black hair wildly disheveled, his cheek just beginning to show a fine, dark stubble. She hadn't meant to tease him so terribly last night. She really had planned to let herself be put in the mood after the results show, but he'd been dead to the world when she'd come in the bedroom. No doubt he'd had a rough first week.

She ran her fingertips along his cheek, felt the little pricks of his coming beard, thought of how much he loved her, in his own, sometimes irritable way, thought of how much she'd missed him this past week, and smiled. "Wake up!"

He grunted, stirred, and opened his eyes. She put a knee on either side of his hips and bent over him, sure to press her chest against his. "I want you," she whispered in his ear, and then she pulled slightly away to look in his eyes.

She thought she saw a tenderness and a love and a fiery desire dancing in his eyes all at once, but maybe she was mistaken, because he only said, "Babe, I've really, really got to pee."

"Arrrgh!" she rolled off of him and stared up with annoyance at the ceiling as he ran, half stumbling, to the bathroom.

**/FNL/**

"Was that good for you?" Eric asked as Tami settled in for the post-coital cuddling.

He nearly always asked that, or some variation. "Did you enjoy that?" "Are you good?" "You like?" What did he expect her to say, really? She always said yes. Mostly because the answer was yes, but even when it wasn't, she said yes, because what was the point of the post-game dissection? There were better ways to improve play, for instance, subtle coaching techniques during the game itself. Sometimes, even good players fumbled. What was the point of highlighting the moment? Much better to let it slide and remind him of his more glorious moments in order to encourage repeats of the highlights. Not that he'd fumbled this morning. She was thoroughly satisfied. But instead of just saying yes, as she usually did, she said, "I give it an 8."

"What?"

"An 8."

He slid under the covers. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"Uh-huh."

"Ten being mind-blowing sex?"

"Uh-huh."

"When's the last time I pulled a ten?"

She thought for a moment. "Never. You've had quite a few 9's though."

"Never? _Never_?"

"You're saving the 10's for when we're in our fifties. Those are going to be the best sex years of our lives."

"You don't say." He reached for her hand.

"I do say."

"Did I tell you I love you?" he asked.

"Yeah. Three or four times."

"Good. I couldn't remember. You distract me."

She laughed, rolled, and lay her cheek on his bare chest. They dozed, or at least she did. When she awoke, she only caught him saying "…church with that boy. What were you thinking?"

"What?"

"Why did you say she could go to church with that boy?" he repeated.

"Would you rather I say they could go to Corpus Christi for Spring Break together instead?"

He did that fake laugh he had, that she thought was cute when it was directed at someone else and hated when it was directed at her.

"How can you be upset about church, Eric? It's church. It doesn't get any more wholesome than that."

"I lost my virginity on a church youth retreat, if you recall," he grumbled. "With the pastor's daughter."

"After you dated her steadily for fourteen months and gave her your class ring. Geeez. You make it sound like an orgy."

"I just mean I know how teenage boys think. And they aren't thinking about God, I assure you."

"Marcus is 12," she reminded him.

"How could you let them kiss!"

She should have known his little road swerve last night was too mild a reaction, that something bigger was coming. "Let them?" she asked. "Well I guess I forgot her chastity lip gloss. The kind that sends out an electric shock anytime her lips come in contact with a boy. I know you usually sneak in and apply it when she's asleep, but I forgot, because you were away and I'm such a poor parent without your guidance."

"Why do you always have to be so snide?"

"Why do you always have to say such idiotic things?" she countered.

"She said it was a REAL kiss. A REAL kiss. What does that even mean?"

"It probably means she's pregnant."

"Damnit, Tami! Didn't we agree she's too young to date?"

"Yes, we did. We also agreed she could have that study session with Marcus. In fact, Eric, YOU arranged that study session for her, with her father." She couldn't help herself. She knew it was a mistake. But she just couldn't help the final jab – "Matchmaker."

He threw the covers off himself, stood up, pulled on his jeans, and paced the bedroom floor. He smacked his hands down on his head. He was making some kind of strangled, grunting sound. "I thought she'd hate me less if she could at least…but I didn't expect them to… I thought there would be an adult present."

"There _was_ an adult present. _His_ adult just doesn't linger two feet from the dining room with a pair of binoculars at all times."

Eric came and sat on the edge of the bed. His chest rose and fell with the strength of his sigh. "So when she told you, what punishment did you give her?"

Tami sat up. "Punishment?"

"Yeah. How did you discipline her?"

"How did I punish her for kissing a boy she really likes?"

"Well, for disobeying us," he said.

"How did she disobey us?"

"Well…Okay, we didn't actually say, don't kiss Marcus. But it was pretty well implied."

"Eric, she trusted me enough to tell me. That's huge. I've been afraid we were losing our…connection. But she told me. Hell, she even told _you_. That's huge. That's what we want, babe. Open communication. Don't you dare do anything to shut that down. Because that's what we're most going to need when she's sixteen."

Eric didn't say anything.

"Do you hear me? Don't you dare shut that down."

He swiveled and lay back on the pillow. He draped an arm over his forehead.

"When the time's right," she continued, "I'll warn her against getting too attached, and I'll remind her that she's only twelve." She put a hand on his chest. He covered her hand with his own. He was looking up at the ceiling.

"I know it's not…_that_ big a deal," he admitted. "In and of itself. I know this kid is going to be history in less than year. I know that. It isn't really the kiss. It's…" She could see the firm line of his jaw, the back teeth clenched together beneath the flesh. "She's growing up. I'm not going to be her prince anymore. That stage of her life is officially over." Except it wasn't, not nearly as over as it would be in another four or so years when he walked in on her and Matt in bed, but he knew nothing of that at the moment; he only knew that it _felt_ over.

Tami slid down next to him and kissed his cheek. She kissed his ear and whispered, "But you're _my_ prince. Always and forever."

He turned and sought her lips. "Yeah?" he asked between kisses.

"Yeah," she whispered, and, somehow, he forgot his anxiety.


	17. Spying in Church

**Chapter 17: Spying in Church **

When Eric and Tami finally dressed and ventured to the kitchen that Saturday morning, Julie was studying at the table in the breakfast nook. "You guys slept late," she said.

Tami smiled as she pulled down two coffee cups from the cabinet. "Yeah. We were really, _really_ tired."

Eric shot her a wide grin. He supposed she wasn't mad at him anymore, given their morning festivities. He prepared the coffee and clicked on the pot before leaning on the bar to look at his daughter. "So. You're going to church with Marcus tomorrow morning."

"Yep."

"Maybe I should go with y'all."

Julie snorted. From behind him, so did Tami. "What?" he asked. "Maybe I ought to try another denomination. It's good to get to know my Christian brethren."

Tami and Julie had each other's eyes now, and they were laughing.

"What?" he protested.

It was Julie who stopped laughing first. "You? Dad? In a black Baptist church?"

"What? Are you suggesting I'm a racist?"

Tami rubbed his back. "No, sugar. She's not at all suggesting you're a racist. She's suggesting you're content to be a member of the frozen chosen."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He grabbed the coffee pot, which was still percolating, and filled his cup before shoving it back in. The coffee hissed on the burner.

Julie looked at her mother. "Remember when we visited that nondenominational church when we first moved here? Because you wanted to try it, Mom?"

Tami nodded. "And the second we walked out," Tami told Eric, "you said – 'We're not going there.'"

Julie smirked. "Yeah. And all because four people raised and waved their hands during the closing hymn."

"No," he grumbled. "That wasn't why."

"Then why?" Julie challenged him. "Because six people clapped during the first hymn?"

"No."

"Because three people said Amen _out loud_ during the middle of the sermon?" Julie asked.

"No," he insisted.

Tami had her own mug of coffee now and was holding it just below her lips, an amused smile on her face. "Because the pastor asked the whole congregation to extend a hand in blessing during the prayers?"

"Well it should be optional!" he said. "No one should feel pressured to extend a hand of blessing. I'm fine if people want to do what people want to do, but no one should try to make me feel like I should do it."

"Frozen chosen," Julie teased.

Tami laughed.

"I'm not frozen, I'm _reverent_." Eric set his coffee on the bar. "Reverent," he repeated before disappearing down the hall.

**/FNL/**

Coach Taylor snuck into the back of the church just before the service started. The pews were packed. There was an opening in the one, which was cut off to allow room for the handicapped. A plump, gray-haired woman sat at the end in her wheelchair. He stepped in and ventured, "Ma'am, is this seat taken? May I sit here?"

She looked him up and down and let out a laugh. "You can have it." Feeling out of place, he eased himself down next to her. "My husband's up front because he's in the service," she said. "Spot's free." She looked at him again. "You a visitor?" she asked with a smile that said he couldn't possibly be anything else.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. "Eric Taylor." He extended a hand which she shook lightly without actually giving him her name.

Up towards the front of the church, Julie's blonde head rose next to Marcus. On the other side of Marcus was Officer Thomas, and next to him a woman who must be Marcus's mom. Julie and Marcus were sitting shoulder to shoulder, their shoulders touching, but the boy didn't appear to be holding her hand or anything, although Coach Taylor couldn't quite tell. As he surveyed the church, he counted a grand total of five white people, including himself and Julie.

The woman was still looking him over. "And what brings you here?"

"Just want to worship God," he said.

"Mhmmm." That mhmm was tinged with suspicion. He pretended to look at the program. "Where've I seen you before?" she asked. "You look familiar."

"Maybe at a football game? I used to be an assistant coach for the Tigers."

She pointed a thick finger at him. "Oh yeah. That's right. My grandson's on that team. You the coach that left, ain't you? Just up and quit two short weeks into the season. Just up and quit for a better job."

This was not getting off to a good start. "Well, I – "

"Uh-huh. Just up and quit. What are you still doing in Midland?"

"Well," he said, "My family's still here, so I'm home on the weekends until I can move them – "

"They don't like to worship God?"

He cleared his throat with a cough. "Uh…they do. They do." But Tami had refused to accompany him this morning, saying he would not, absolutely would not, humiliate her with his protective father routine. She'd opted for a bubble bath and a book instead. "My wife's…under the weather. That's my daughter up front with her friend." He gestured toward the third pew.

"Oh, so Marcus got himself a little white girl now." She made a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue.

"They're friends," Eric emphasized.

"So you spyin' on 'em?"

"No," he said defensively.

"Uh-huh." She laughed and looked away. She looked back. "Uh-huh. Well, Marcus is a good boy that one. I've known him since he was this tall." She put her hand down close to the floor, lower than any standing child could be. Then she looked Coach Taylor over again. "Mhmhmm," she said, with a tone of approval. "You _are_ a cute one, ain't you?" Her visual appreciation would have made him a lot more uncomfortable had she not been about seventy. "Mhmmmm…" she said again. "Woooh. I bet your wife enjoys your company."

Coach Taylor stared straight ahead. He was relieved when the service started and everyone had to stand for the songs - for a moment, anyway, because it wasn't long before the singing got raucous, with a lot of swaying and clapping. He liked the hymn itself. He knew the words, but when they sung it in his own church, it admittedly had more of a dirge-like quality to it than it did now. He sang along, at a low volume, until his wheelchair-bound companion tugged on his suit sleeve.

"Yes, ma'am?" he said, turning to her.

"You got to clap, dear," she told him, and slapped her hands together with a smile.

Eric nodded and tapped three fingers quietly into his open palm, quite out of rhythm with the music.

"No," she laughed. "Lord child, not like that!" Her whole body was quivering with her laughter. Eric could feel his face growing hot. "Like this." She showed him how it was done. He increased the number of fingers he was slapping in his palm to five, but he was still out of time, and she laughed again. He was embarrassed, but her laughter was so jovial it made him smile - at her and at himself.

"Oh my," she muttered to him when he sat back down after the hymns. She lifted her program and fanned herself, making more appreciative clucks and looking him over once again. "You are a cute one, but you need to loosen up, young man."

Thankfully, the sermon had started. At least, Eric thought it was the sermon, but the preacher just kept repeating himself, with a lot of amening and murmuring in response from the congregation. Eric watched Marcus slide his arm around the back of the pew and drop his hand down on Julie's shoulder. Coach Taylor was fixated on the sight when the woman leaned her face closer to his. "Simmer down, dear," she said. "I told you Marcus is a good one."

The preacher kept saying "Yes, Lord!" and the congregation kept saying "Yes, Lord!" back, and then the preacher would say, "Yes, yes, Lord!" and they'd say "Amen!" or "Yes, Lord," or "Yes, yes, Lord," back, and so it went, over and over again.

The fervor was awkward and uncomfortable to Eric, but he tried to think of it as a liturgical call and response, like they might do in his own church. Of course, then the words would be printed in the bulletin, and everyone would say the same thing at the same time at pretty much the same volume, which would certainly not be quite so loud, and there wouldn't be all the mhmhmss and random amens and random claps and people randomly standing up every now and then to shout their response. But otherwise…same concept, right?

Eric didn't dislike going to church. It was a comforting routine he could rely on that made him feel close to his family and enabled him to connect socially in a prescribed environment where he knew precisely what kind of small talk was expected of him. He liked seeing his wife dressed up and looking her best; he liked having her on his arm and by his side and taking a little public pride in what he had but maybe wasn't quite sure he deserved. He liked doing something with Julie they didn't have to fight about, that they both just did, without question, the same way, every week.

He believed in God and Jesus and Christian values and all that, more or less, give or take a doctrine here or there, but that faith wasn't why he went to church. He went to church because, not unlike football, it made him feel a part of something bigger than himself. Unlike with football, however, he didn't like too much enthusiasm in his church services. For Eric, God was up there, somewhere, a little distant, to be honored and respected and left un-annoyed, like a better, more reliable, more knowledgeable version of your father. God wasn't a team you were rooting for.

So he was shifting in the pew as the volume grew and the yes Lords kept coming. The woman beside him threw in her rousing amen and yes Lords as often as the rest. Once she gestured to Eric like a conductor, and Eric, at her visual cue said, "Yes, Lord" quietly.

She leaned over to him. "What kind of 'Yes, Lord' is that? That's like Moses grumbling 'Don't send me, I can't talk none' or like Jonah running away from God to the ocean. You know what happened to him, young man, don't you? So you might want to put a little more yes into that Yes, Lord!"

She raised both hands up when the preacher said the next Yes, Lord, and Eric did his best to shout it, but it still came out pretty quietly.

She clucked her tongue. "What are you like at the pep rallies?" she asked him. "If you're a coach, you should be able to put a little more _umph_ into it."

What _was_ he like at the pep rallies? Commanding, confident, articulate. But not so much on the umph, he didn't think. He mostly left the umph to the kids.

The yes Lords kept coming. Back and forth. Preacher and congregation. Suddenly, the preacher fell silent. He looked around the murmuring congregation. There were a lot of women saying "Mhmhm, mhmhm, mhmhm, mhmmm" like the soft roar of the ocean.

Then the preacher looked straight up at the ceiling, "Lord," he exclaimed, in a great, deep baritone, "you have heard our answer. Now ask us the question!" There was clapping and shouting of amen and the preacher went and sat down while some blind man took the pulpit and started belting out a solo hymn.

Was that the sermon? Eric swallowed and glanced at his watch. Apparently it wasn't, because, after the solo hymn, which was admittedly some excellent singing, the preacher got back up and began his sermon. This Eric could appreciate. Cadence. Rhythm. Poetry. The kind of stuff that moved people. He knew, from his own locker room speeches, that it wasn't you said so much as _how_ you said it. And, truth be told, he was a little moved, but no so moved that he needed to shout a random amen.

At some point in the sermon, the preacher said the words "the peace of the Lord be with you." It was just part of the sermon, in the context of a Biblical quote. It wasn't a liturgical call, but, by instinct, Eric responded, not with shouting but with a voice that naturally projected itself, "And also with you." It was what he was used to saying every single week when he heard those words, along with an entire congregation. There was no proscribed liturgy here, and, at the moment, he was the only one who had spoken in the entire church. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as faces turned to look at him. They nodded, murmured, agreed, but, still, he was embarrassed. Then Julie turned, and she spied him. He raised his hand, waved at her with his fingers, and smiled. Her face was eclipsed by a cloud of sheer mortification.

**/FNL/**

Coach Taylor tried to sneak out of the church before the service was quite over, but his pewmate restrained him, so in the end he was caught by his daughter, who stood in the aisle as she was exiting with Marcus and her family, her face still mortified. "Daaaaaad," she murmured.

"Just worshiping," he said.

Julie literally put her face in her hands. Marcus put a comforting hand on her back and urged her forward. Marcus's mom looked quizzically at Eric, stepped into the pew, and introduced herself. He exchanged some courtesies, shook her hand, and she left after the kids. Officer Thomas slid into the pew and stood next to him as the wheelchair-bound woman was turned and rolled off by her husband, who turned out to be the preacher.

"Spying on the kids?" Officer Thomas asked him.

"Well, I, uh…"

Marcus's dad let out a guffaw. He clapped Eric on the shoulder. "I'd of done the same thing. Gotta respect a man who will step a mile out of his comfort zone just because he's concerned about his family. Maybe we should get a beer sometime."

"That'd be nice." This was an unexpected turn of events. Maybe Marcus's dad was at his Sunday best.

Officer Thomas let his hand slide away from Eric's shoulder. "Think you can trust me to keep a watchful eye on the kids while we take them out to Sunday lunch? We'll bringing Julie home around two?"

Eric nodded. "So uh...you seem more comfortable with all this now than you were before. Why's that?"

"Like you, Coach Taylor," he said, "I have a wife who likes to speak reason to me. Sometimes I even listen."

Coach Taylor nodded at him and the two men exited the church together. Marcus and his family lingered outside with Julie. Eric waved goodbye to her and began walking down the sidewalk toward where he'd parked his car (he'd chosen the street rather than the lot, wanting to get out more quickly), and Julie ran after him.

"Dad, that was so embarrassing! Why did you have to do that!"

"I just wanted to see what his church was like."

"You wanted to spy on me! You embarrassed me in front of Marcus!"

Eric lowered the program he was still holding to shield himself against the Texas sun. "Look, Monkey Noodle, I'm sorry I embarrassed you. I just want to make sure…I just want to make sure you have good taste in boys, a'ight? Because I'm your dad and I care about you and I just wanted to see what he was like in his own environment."

"And?"

"And I think you have pretty good taste. And that's a relief to a father, you know. Because there's a lot of guys out there who are no good."

"Good taste," she said with pronounced sarcasm. " Like mom, huh?"

"Your mother had horrible taste in boys."

Julie couldn't maintain her disdainful expression, and she laughed a little. "Uh….dad?"

"Oh, I mean, before me. I wasn't her type. I had to wear her down."

"Really? What was her type?"

"Never you mind that. Listen, Marcus seems like an a'ight kid. I just don't want you to get hurt, and I don't want you to grow up too fast. You're twelve. Keep that in mind, okay?"

She nodded. "Fine. I just wish you weren't so…"

"So what?"

"Overboard? Uptight? Insane?"

His jaw clenched. He was about to get defensive, but he remembered Tami's admonishment about open communication, and that's what they were having right here, right now, wasn't it? He was lucky Julie was talking to him like this. "I'll consider taking it down a notch."

"Thanks. And you know, Dad, I'm always going to have good taste in guys. Because of you."

"Me?"

She nodded. "I want someone who treats me the way you treat mom." She stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. He was all smiles until she pulled away and said, "That's why I'm dating Marcus."

"Whoa, whoa, you are _not_ dating Marcus. You are too young to date anyone. Your _mother_ agrees with that." He said mother like it was the final word in law. Which, well, it was.

Julie let out an irritated sigh.

"Seriously, Jules. Marcus can be your friend. You guys can take turns going to church with each other. You can study together. You can go out to dinner with each other's families, _with parents present_, but you may not date. Is that understood?"

"Oh fine! But can we _at least_ go to the junior high winter dance? It's the _last_ time I'll see him before I move."

"I'll discuss it with your mother."

Julie accepted this without further argument. She probably figured she had a better chance with her mother anyway. She waved goodbye to him and rejoined Marcus's family.


	18. Change Gonna Come

**Chapter 18**

When Eric got back home, Tami was still in the tub. Maybe she'd been slow to get around to her bath. He peeked around the door frame and asked if she wanted company. "Julie won't be back until two," he assured her.

"The water's cold now," she said. "I was just about to get out. Hand me my towel."

He did, and she stood, the water cascading off her body. She wrapped the towel quickly around herself, before he could get too good a look. "Could I have a little space to get out?" she asked.

"Sure," he muttered and stepped back.

"More."

"A'ight, a'ight." He left the bathroom, but he was lying in bed when she came out and began to get her clothes out of the dresser.

"Are you planning to watch me get dressed?" she asked.

"You don't have to get dressed," he said. "I just told you, Julie's not coming back until two."

She rolled her eyes, smiled, and then sighed. Her eyes twinkled and moved over him. "You do look good in a suit," she said.

"And I have to go back to Dillon tomorrow morning. Five more days before we can see each other. We've got to store up nuts for the winter."

She laughed. "I don't think it works that way, hon."

He patted the bed beside himself. "Let me dry you off."

"I dried myself off, thank you," she said, but she came and sat on the bed. He turned toward her and hooked a finger into the top of the towel. She grabbed his tie with one hand and tugged him toward her lips. They kissed, tongues tangling, and, ever so slowly, he began to unravel her towel.

Afterwards, the towel lay in a crumpled pile on the floor next to his equally disarrayed coat, pants, and boxers. He still wore his dress shirt, which she'd unbuttoned only halfway. His white t-shirt peeked out from beneath it, but he was without his dark red tie, because Tami was on her back, wrapping and unwrapping the tie lazily and absently around her hands, like a sleepy boxer preparing to fight.

Lying on his back next to her, his head propped up slightly on a pillow, Eric murmured, "Mhmmhm, mhmhmh, mhmhmh, yes, Lord."

She stopped toying with the tie and laughed. "Did you have a good timing praising the Lord at church this morning?"

He angled his neck slightly to look down at her. "I had a better time listening to you praise him just now."

Her laugh was sultry. She rolled onto her side and smacked him with the tie, which he grabbed and, smiling, yanked from her hand.

"Well," she said, "it's not often Julie's out of the house and I get to be really vocal."

He let her have the tie again, and as she draped it around his neck, he said, "I almost forgot you were such a screamer."

She tugged on both ends of the loose tie to urge him to roll on his side toward her. "I do _not_ scream," she insisted. "I project."

He kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

After a second kiss, he asked, "So…was that a ten?"

"I give it a nine."

He rolled onto his back and threw an arm despondently above his head. "What the hell do I have to do to get a ten?"

She propped herself up over him and smiled. "I don't know, sugar. I told you. I'm going to find out when we're fifty."

He smiled and chuckled. "God I love you. I'm so glad you're not mad anymore." He immediately regretted the words once they were out. Maybe she'd just forgotten she was mad, and now he'd reminded her.

"I'm still disappointed I have to leave my job," she admitted. "I gave notice already."

"Why's that?" Their old house in Dillon wasn't available until winter break. She had awhile.

"It seemed the only fair thing to do, since I know I'll be leaving. If they can go back to the old interview pool…It just seemed fair. I said I'll stay until winter break, if they need me, but they're going to start looking for a replacement now. I'll probably be done soon. Better that than to start getting attached to these kids anyway."

"Sorry."

"Did you bring me the _Dillon Gazette_ like I asked?"

She'd wanted to read the Help Wanted ads, but he thought that plan had changed. "I thought you said this morning you weren't looking for a job for a while?"

"Not a full-time job, but they might have calls for volunteers or part-time work. I told you I'd be doing that."

"Yeah," he said. He'd forgotten to pack the newspaper in his weekend bag, though. "Uh…you can look for that on the internet right?"

"I want the paper too. Sometimes they have something that– you forgot, didn't you?"

"Well…"

"Damnit, Eric."

"Sorry. I love you."

"You know one great way to show love?" she asked. "Complete simple tasks your wife asks you to complete."

"Sorry." He gave her his most affected, hang dog look, the one he knew she found to be adorable, unless she was really mad, and then it made her want to choke him. Given that the tie was still around his neck, and given that at the moment she had at least one end in her hand, this could be a quick test of her level of discontent. Fortunately, she laughed and then kissed him.

He kissed back and asked, "Go for two?"

"You already scored two."

"Well…_you_ did."

"That's what I meant, sugar. Because I assumed your goal was to please _me_."

"It was. Is. Always."

She snuggled up and whispered in his ear. "Is it?"

"Mhmmm…yeah."

She bit down lightly on his earlobe. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

She slid her hand to his thigh and began stroking lightly. "Are you sure about that?"

"Uh-huh. Tami, baby, yes…"

Her nibble on his ear became a kiss and then a whisper, "Good, because I need a backrub." She abruptly removed her hand and her mouth and rolled onto her stomach. "Shoulders and upper back," she demanded.

He sighed, but he complied. It was at least ten minutes (she would claim four, but he was certain it was ten), before he tried anything. Unfortunately, his attempts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and Julie shouting hello, followed by Tami doing an abrupt push up and shouting, "Shit!"

Eric grabbed his boxers and pants and yanked them on while Tami ran for the bedroom door they hadn't shut and slammed it closed.

"Where are you guys?" Julie hollered.

"It's two already?" Eric asked, zipping up. Instead of buckling the loose belt attached to his pants, he pulled it completely free and tossed it on the bed. He slid the tie from his neck, finished unbuttoning his dress shirt, and threw it also on top of the bed.

"Guys?" Julie asked.

Eric walked out of the bedroom in his dress pants and T-shirt and shut the door behind himself, leaving Tami to dress. He glanced at the hall clock as Julie approached the hallway from the living room. Ten minutes to two. "We were napping," he said, and continued down the hallway past her to the kitchen. He was hungry. Neither he nor Tami had eaten lunch. He began to fix himself and Tami sandwiches. "Where did you eat?" he asked when Julie came in and leaned back against the counter.

"Bill's Barbecue."

"Don't guess you brought us anything?" He slathered peanut butter onto a piece of bread.

"Figured you guys would have eaten by now." She opened the fridge and pulled out a Diet Coke. "I've got homework. I'll be in my room if you need me.

"Okay," he said, "but it's family time tonight, you know. I got to go back to Dillon tomorrow."

Her sigh was a little too pronounced. "I _know_."

Later, over the lunch table, Eric asked Tami, "Did JoAnn Street ever mention an Angela to you?" He'd been thinking of that desk, and the name carved inside the drawer.

"Their daughter?" she asked.

"Daughter?"

"Who died before Jason was born?"

He'd deduced he truth, although he'd kept telling himself it was probably a hand-me-down from a cousin. He knew it didn't make sense. He knew the dead daughter scenario, the keepsake scenario, made the most sense, but he hadn't wanted to feel whatever that scenario might make him feel, so he'd gone with the cousin hand-me-down assumption instead. "Why did you never mention her to me?" he asked.

"It…I don't know. She told me years ago you know, after we first moved to Dillon. It didn't come up."

"They gave me her desk to use."

"What?" she asked, putting her fork down. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "It doesn't feel right."

"Then work at the kitchen table. Or on the bed."

"I will." He was staring at his plate. He'd lost his appetite.

"It was a long time ago," she said. "I think they've healed, as much as you ever _can_ from something like that."

He had his head in his hand now. "Julie's my baby," he said.

"Oh, hon." She came to where he was sitting, slid on his lap, and wrapped her arms around him.

"And sometimes I think she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Tami insisted. "She's 12. She doesn't hate you. Trust me."

"You think she'll get used to Dillon? She didn't like it last time we lived there." He'd convinced himself she had, that her recent grumbling had been merely contrariness, but he wasn't so sure she had liked it all that much, when he thought back on it. She'd had a friend or two, but not many. She'd been teased for being a know-it-all, until she'd finally learned not to show off her mind. Some of that was a natural growth process - Julie did have to learn to reign the arrogance in, but some of it had been the consequence of living in a small town instead of a larger suburban or urban area.

"She'll be fine, hon. Junior high will be different. Bigger. They have gifted classes, just like here. It'll be fine."

"You didn't like it much either, did you?"

"I was fine there, hon." When they'd lived there, she'd volunteered to counsel at a women's center, kept herself busy. She hadn't gotten involved much in the community, and she'd probably be expected to do that now that he was more than an assistant junior high coach, the QB Panthers coach… "I'll be fine."

"A'ight. " He held her a little closer. "I can't wait to y'all move up there. I missed you this week."

She kissed him. "Me too, babe."

Coach Taylor closed his eyes and sighed. Change was coming, and it would always keep coming, but through it all, he'd have Tami.


End file.
